A Newborn Child in British India (England & India)

Somewhere in Central India, 1920s

England regretted his decision to visit India when the temperature climbed higher and higher and the air became sweltering and heavy. He wondered how his colony could still appear so unfazed by the heat, but India did.

England still marvelled at how well India took the heat while his colony was talking to one of his countrymen in a straight cut kurta. They were speaking in Hindi, so England wasn't able to understand what they were talking about anyway.

After a while, the man went away, gesturing at India and England to follow him.

"What did he tell you?" England asked.

"He said a Maharani nearby had born a daughter five days ago and we're now invited to the festivities," India explained. "I'm sorry, England Sahib, I couldn't very well decline. The Maharaja's family and me have been friends for…" He used his hands to calculate. "For about two hundred years," he decided.

"It's all right, India," England soothed his colony. "I think it will be interesting for me to partake in some festivities of your people."

"If you say so," India said doubtingly.

Several hours later, England started to realise why India had been so reluctant to accept the invitation. For the most part, the "festivities" consisted in a number of men squatting in the garden in front of the Maharaja's palace, listening to music that was playing all the time. England learned that the men, including the Maharaja and his friends, weren't allowed to see mother and child for five days after the child's birth, but were obliged to sleep in the compound and listen to the music that continued to play for fifteen days. As England and India had come on the fifth day, they were now obliged to listen to mediocre music that would go on all night.

This was psychological torture, England decided. For mother, child and everyone else involved.

He was not amused. Not amused at all. And he couldn't sleep.

Sometime in the middle of the night—England had to have dozed off despite the music, but felt absolutely knackered—he heard unusual sounds. England blinked and sat up. He heard a male voice singing in what he believed to be C major, accompanied by elaborate rhythms of a drum. The music was unlike what he head heard before—it was beautiful.

"India?" he whispered to the sleeping form beside him. "India, do you hear this?"

"What?" India yawned. "Lemme sleep!"

"But, India, don't you hear this? This music…"

"Yeah, 's pretty decent, innit?" India slurred drowsily before curling up in his sleeping position again.

"Indeed!" England said and crossed his legs, listening. "But why they saved their best singer until…" England glanced at his watch. "…'til three o'clock in the morning will always remain a mystery to me."

"'S my people", India mumbled. "What do you expect?"

Yes, England pondered. What did I expect.

Not music this beautiful, in any case.

Notes:

– A kurta is a traditional Indian garment (a knee-length shirt).
– A Maharani is the wife of a Maharaja (Sanskrit for "great ruler").
– "Sahib" is a term of Arabic origin and means "master" or "owner". It was used for Europeans in British India as an equivalent to "Sir".

The ficlet is based on a scene the English writer E.M. Forster (1879-1970) describes in his book The Hill of Devi (1953; "Letters of 1921", section "Birth of a Baby", 9 May 1921): "I am as far as ever from understanding Indian singing, but have no doubt that I was listening to great art, it was so complicated and yet so passionate. The singer (man) and the drummer were of almost equal importance and wove round the chord of C major elaborate patterns that came to an end at the same moment—at least that's as near as I can explain it: it was like Western music reflected in trembling water, and it continued in a single burst for half an hour."