Sais by Rudyard Kipling
When Man and Woman are agreed, what can the Kazi do?
Some people say that there is no romance in India. Those people
are wrong. Our lives hold quite as much romance as is good for us.
Strickland was in the Police, and people did not understand him; so
they said he was a doubtful sort of man and passed by on the other
side. Strickland had himself to thank for this. He held the
extraordinary theory that a Policeman in India should try to know as
much about the natives as the natives themselves. Now, in the whole
of Upper India, there is only ONE man who can pass for Hindu or
Mohammedan, chamar or faquir, as he pleases. He is feared and
respected by the natives from the Ghor Kathri to the Jamma Musjid;
and he is supposed to have the gift of invisibility and executive
control over many Devils. But what good has this done him with the
Government? None in the world. He has never got Simla for his
charge; and his name is almost unknown to Englishmen.
Strickland was foolish enough to take that man for his model; and,
following out his absurd theory, dabbled in unsavory places no
respectable man would think of exploring--all among the native
riff-raff. He educated himself in this peculiar way for seven years,
and people could not appreciate it. He was perpetually "going Fantee"
among the natives, which, of course, no man with any sense believes
in. He was initiated into the Sat Bhai at Allahabad once, when he was
on leave; he knew the Lizard-Song of the Sansis, and the Halli-Hukk
dance, which is a religious can-can of a startling kind. When a man
knows who dances the Halli-Hukk, and how, and when, and where, he
knows something to be proud of. He has gone deeper than the skin.
But Strickland was not proud, though he had helped once, at Jagadhri,
at the Painting of the Death Bull, which no Englishman must even look
upon; had mastered the thieves'-patter of the changars; had taken a
Eusufzai horse- thief alone near Attock; and had stood under the
mimbar-board of a Border mosque and conducted service in the manner of
a Sunni Mollah.
His crowning achievement was spending eleven days as a faquir in
the gardens of Baba Atal at Amritsar, and there picking up the
threads of the great Nasiban Murder Case. But people said, justly
enough: "Why on earth can't Strickland sit in his office and write up
his diary, and recruit, and keep quiet, instead of showing up the
incapacity of his seniors?" So the Nasiban Murder Case did him no
good departmentally; but, after his first feeling of wrath, he
returned to his outlandish custom of prying into native life. By the
way, when a man once acquires a taste for this particular amusement,
it abides with him all his days. It is the most fascinating thing in
the world; Love not excepted. Where other men took ten days to the
Hills, Strickland took leave for what he called shikar, put on the
disguise that appealed to him at the time, stepped down into the brown
crowd, and was swallowed up for a while. He was a quiet, dark young
fellow--spare, black-eyes--and, when he was not thinking of something
else, a very interesting companion. Strickland on Native Progress as
he had seen it was worth hearing. Natives hated Strickland; but they
were afraid of him. He knew too much.
When the Youghals came into the station, Strickland--very gravely,
as he did everything--fell in love with Miss Youghal; and she, after
a while, fell in love with him because she could not understand him.
Then Strickland told the parents; but Mrs. Youghal said she was not
going to throw her daughter into the worst paid Department in the
Empire, and old Youghal said, in so many words, that he mistrusted
Strickland's ways and works, and would thank him not to speak or write
to his daughter any more. "Very well," said Strickland, for he did
not wish to make his lady-love's life a burden. After one long talk
with Miss Youghal he dropped the business entirely.
The Youghals went up to Simla in April.
In July, Strickland secured three months' leave on "urgent private
affairs." He locked up his house--though not a native in the
Providence would wittingly have touched "Estreekin Sahib's" gear for
the world--and went down to see a friend of his, an old dyer, at Tarn
Here all trace of him was lost, until a sais met me on the Simla
Mall with this extraordinary note:
"Dear old man,
Please give bearer a box of cheroots--Supers, No. I, for
preference. They are freshest at the Club. I'll repay when I
reappear; but at present I'm out of Society.
I ordered two boxes, and handed them over to the sais with my love.
That sais was Strickland, and he was in old Youghal's employ,
attached to Miss Youghal's Arab. The poor fellow was suffering for
an English smoke, and knew that whatever happened I should hold my
tongue till the business was over.
Later on, Mrs. Youghal, who was wrapped up in her servants, began
talking at houses where she called of her paragon among saises--the
man who was never too busy to get up in the morning and pick flowers
for the breakfast-table, and who blacked--actually BLACKED-- the hoofs
of his horse like a London coachman! The turnout of Miss Youghal's
Arab was a wonder and a delight. Strickland-- Dulloo, I mean--found
his reward in the pretty things that Miss Youghal said to him when she
went out riding. Her parents were pleased to find she had forgotten
all her foolishness for young Strickland and said she was a good girl.
Strickland vows that the two months of his service were the most
rigid mental discipline he has ever gone through. Quite apart from
the little fact that the wife of one of his fellow-saises fell in
love with him and then tried to poison him with arsenic because he
would have nothing to do with her, he had to school himself into
keeping quiet when Miss Youghal went out riding with some man who
tried to flirt with her, and he was forced to trot behind carrying
the blanket and hearing every word! Also, he had to keep his temper
when he was slanged in "Benmore" porch by a policeman-- especially
once when he was abused by a Naik he had himself recruited from Isser
Jang village--or, worse still, when a young subaltern called him a pig
for not making way quickly enough.
But the life had its compensations. He obtained great insight into
the ways and thefts of saises--enough, he says, to have summarily
convicted half the chamar population of the Punjab if he had been on
business. He became one of the leading players at knuckle- bones,
which all jhampanis and many saises play while they are waiting
outside the Government House or the Gaiety Theatre of nights; he
learned to smoke tobacco that was three-fourths cowdung; and he heard
the wisdom of the grizzled Jemadar of the Government House saises,
whose words are valuable. He saw many things which amused him; and he
states, on honor, that no man can appreciate Simla properly, till he
has seen it from the sais's point of view. He also says that, if he
chose to write all he saw, his head would be broken in several places.
Strickland's account of the agony he endured on wet nights, hearing
the music and seeing the lights in "Benmore," with his toes tingling
for a waltz and his head in a horse-blanket, is rather amusing. One
of these days, Strickland is going to write a little book on his
experiences. That book will be worth buying; and even more, worth
Thus, he served faithfully as Jacob served for Rachel; and his
leave was nearly at an end when the explosion came. He had really
done his best to keep his temper in the hearing of the flirtations I
have mentioned; but he broke down at last. An old and very
distinguished General took Miss Youghal for a ride, and began that
specially offensive "you're-only-a-little-girl" sort of flirtation--
most difficult for a woman to turn aside deftly, and most maddening
to listen to. Miss Youghal was shaking with fear at the things he
said in the hearing of her sais. Dulloo--Strickland-- stood it as
long as he could. Then he caught hold of the General's bridle, and,
in most fluent English, invited him to step off and be heaved over the
cliff. Next minute Miss Youghal began crying; and Strickland saw that
he had hopelessly given himself away, and everything was over.
The General nearly had a fit, while Miss Youghal was sobbing out
the story of the disguise and the engagement that wasn't recognized
by the parents. Strickland was furiously angry with himself and more
angry with the General for forcing his hand; so he said nothing, but
held the horse's head and prepared to thrash the General as some sort
of satisfaction, but when the General had thoroughly grasped the
story, and knew who Strickland was, he began to puff and blow in the
saddle, and nearly rolled off with laughing. He said Strickland
deserved a V. C., if it were only for putting on a sais's blanket.
Then he called himself names, and vowed that he deserved a thrashing,
but he was too old to take it from Strickland. Then he complimented
Miss Youghal on her lover. The scandal of the business never struck
him; for he was a nice old man, with a weakness for flirtations. Then
he laughed again, and said that old Youghal was a fool. Strickland
let go of the cob's head, and suggested that the General had better
help them, if that was his opinion. Strickland knew Youghal's
weakness for men with titles and letters after their names and high
official position. "It's rather like a forty-minute farce," said the
General, "but begad, I WILL help, if it's only to escape that
tremendous thrashing I deserved. Go along to your home, my
sais-Policeman, and change into decent kit, and I'll attack Mr.
Youghal. Miss Youghal, may I ask you to canter home and wait?
. . . . . . . . .
About seven minutes later, there was a wild hurroosh at the Club.
A sais, with a blanket and head-rope, was asking all the men he knew:
"For Heaven's sake lend me decent clothes!" As the men did not
recognize him, there were some peculiar scenes before Strickland could
get a hot bath, with soda in it, in one room, a shirt here, a collar
there, a pair of trousers elsewhere, and so on. He galloped off, with
half the Club wardrobe on his back, and an utter stranger's pony under
him, to the house of old Youghal. The General, arrayed in purple and
fine linen, was before him. What the General had said Strickland never
knew, but Youghal received Strickland with moderate civility; and Mrs.
Youghal, touched by the devotion of the transformed Dulloo, was almost
kind. The General beamed, and chuckled, and Miss Youghal came in, and
almost before old Youghal knew where he was, the parental consent had
been wrenched out and Strickland had departed with Miss Youghal to the
Telegraph Office to wire for his kit. The final embarrassment was
when an utter stranger attacked him on the Mall and asked for the
So, in the end, Strickland and Miss Youghal were married, on the
strict understanding that Strickland should drop his old ways, and
stick to Departmental routine, which pays best and leads to Simla.
Strickland was far too fond of his wife, just then, to break his
word, but it was a sore trial to him; for the streets and the bazars,
and the sounds in them, were full of meaning to Strickland, and these
called to him to come back and take up his wanderings and his
discoveries. Some day, I will tell you how he broke his promise to
help a friend. That was long since, and he has, by this time, been
nearly spoilt for what he would call shikar. He is forgetting the
slang, and the beggar's cant, and the marks, and the signs, and the
drift of the undercurrents, which, if a man would master, he must
always continue to learn.
But he fills in his Departmental returns beautifully.