l-+-#+,*J'+4*"b
-.i
. efl
I
PanguinBooks The Wolf Children
ChadesMaclean wasborn in Lancashirein 1946.He took an honours degreeat New College,Oxford, and since has worked at varied careers. His other booksinclude.Island on the Edgeof the V(uld, a history of the Hebridean island of St Kild4 and a satirical novel, The PatheticPhallus. CharlesM*clean lives and works in London and Scodand,
Ma,clean Ch,arles
The Wolf Children
PenguinBoohs
For my mother and father
PenguinBooksLtd, Harmondsworth, Middleseq England Penguin Books, 625 Madison Avenue, Ncw York. New York rooz,z.U.S.A. PenguinBooks Ausaalia Ltd, Ringwood, Victoria, Ausuzlia PenguinBooksCanadaLtd, z8or John Sueet" Markharq Ontario, Canadar.3n rr4 PenguinBooks(N,2.) Ltd, r8z-r9o WairauRoad, Auckland ro, New Zer,ltnd First publishedin GreatBritain by Allen Lane rg77 First publishedin the United Statesof Arnerica by Hill and Wang 1978 Publishedin PenguinBooksrg79 C-opyright@ CharlesMacleaq 1977 All rights reserved Printed and bound in Great Britain by Cox & Wyman Ltd, Reading Set in Monorype Ehrhardt Except in the United Statesof America, this book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise,be lent, re-sold, hired ouq or otherwisecirculated without the publisher's prior consentin any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being irnposedon the subsequentpurchaser
Contents
List of Illustrations vlt M"p xii Introduction ChaptersOneto Twelve Epilogue Glossary Bibliography Notes Index
I I
29r 303 305 313 32s
List of lllustrations
r The Santal village of Denganaliain Mayurbhanj, Orissa" wherethe wolf children weretakensoonafter their capture z Typical Bengalcountryside 3 J. A L. Singhwith his wife RachetanddaughterPreetiLota, c. ryo6 4 St John's Church, Midnapore 5 LouiseMani Das,a former inmate of the Singhs'orphanage 6 The ReverendSingh witlr someof his orphans 7 A Santaltribesmanin Mayurbhanj 8 A tribal hunting parry in May 9 The Indian wolf (canislillus pallipes) ro An abandonedtermitary similar to the one in which the wolveshad madetheir den rr LasaMarandi, who took part asa boy in the captureof the wolf children rz The temple and tank below Amarda Road dak bungalow, wherethe ReverendSinghbroughtthe wolf children on the night of the caprure 13 Kamala and Amala soon after they were brought to the orphanage 14 and 15 Kamalarunning on all fours 16, r7, 18 Kamala'smodesof eatingand drinking,a. r9z5 19 Kamala with chicken entrails on the moiilan behind the orphanage zo Kamalain the front of the orphanagecompound zr Kamalascratchingthe ground in imitation of a roostershe befriended zz Kamalabiting at a spiryringtop z3 Reachingup for a plate offood as part of an exercisefor learningto stand z4 Carryinga toy in her mouth
25 Kamala would sit for hours in a corner of tlre room, isolated from the world z6 $cratching at the courtyard gate to get out z7 Disappeanng into the lantana bushes at the bottom ofthe garden z8 Playing with the orphanage dogs z9 Running across the courtyard with a dead chicken (or possibly a pigeon) in her mouth
3o Receivinga biscuit from Mrs Singh 3 r Kamalarejectspuppy 32 Flangingfrom the branchesof a tree helped to straighten her legs 33 Kamala fust stood on ro June r9z3 34 Kamala walking by herself for the first time 35 The Reverend Singh, Kamala and Mrs Singh pose for the photographer ofthe Statesnaz, November 19z6 36 The orphanage group. Kamala is sitting on tlle ground between the Singhs JI
Robert M. Zinggin Red C.rossuniform
38 Bishop Herbert Pakenhanr-Walsh Thcfollowing illustrationsare reproducedby permissionof the El Paso Cntennial Museutnof The Unhersity o_f?exasat El Paso: rj, 14, 16, rZ, rgr 2or2rr 22, 23r25, 26,27, 28,3o, 3t, jz, gj, 94 and36.
Acknowledgements
Many people have helped me in gathering material for this book and without their cooperation, encouragement and generosity it would not have been rvritten. I can never hope to thank all ofthem or express my gratitude adequately to clear a debt that in most part can neither be measured nor repaid. If (in attempting to do so) I overlook anyone, my gratitude and obligation to them are no less felt. In America I was given valuable help and warm hospitality by Dr Louise Bates Ames, Madge Beamiss, Margaret Beamiss, Mrs Charles Bohlen, Richard Cooper, Charles'W. Dunn, Rex Gerold, Kate Grimond, Tom O'Laughlir5 Christine Merchant, Edward M. M. Warburg, Mary Warburg, Emma Zingg and Henry Zngg. In India I received great kindness from Yulin Chen, to whom I am especially grateful; and from Dr P. K. Bhowmick and Dr Ashok Ghosh of the Department of Anthropology at Calcutta University, who helped me with every aspect of my research and by enlisting the welcome aid of the Government of Bengal enabled me to travel in otherwise inaccessible places. In Midnapore the headmaster of the Collegiate School Flaripada Mondal, was my tireless guide, interpreter, teacher and friend and without his assisfance I could have achieved little. I am also indebted to Ashok Mozumdar and Ajit Kumar Ghosh who accompanied me on two expeditions into theiungle areas of Bengal and Orissa, and to Biduhuti Bhusan who finally led us to the village of Denganalia. In particular I would lite to thank Dr B. B. and Mrs M. Mohanty for their unforgettable hospitaliry. Among those who gave interviews and helped with my research in other ways I owe a special debt to Mrs Preeti Lota Jan4 a daughter of the Rev. Singh, and to Mrs M. M. Singt\
his daughter-in-law.I would atso like to thank Miss Sipn Banerjee,Barbara Barnes,Narayan Baska, SureshkarBhani Deo, M. Bhaumic\ Dr Biswamoy Biswas, Birendra Nath Bose,K. C. Bose,tle Rt Rev. R. W. Bryan, Bankim Chaulir, A. K. Chowdhury, Kunja Mohan Chowdhury the Church Missionary Society, Father Ian Clarke, Louise Mani Dag Monindro Das, Naren Nath Das, RagunathDas, A. K. DaslL AbanikantoDey, SurendraMohan Dey, Mrs Ganguly,P. C. Gangulg B. K. Ghoslr"S, K. Ghoslq Ram ChandraBiri, Sir PercivalGriffiths, CaptainM. Guin, Nangi Hembron,the Rev. Lionel Hewitt, JageswarKhatua, Timot}y Khatua, Ghambir Mahato, S. Maity, Sunaram Maji, Mrs Gita Mallik, Lasa Marandi, Dr B. K. and Mrs Mohanty, D. Mukeriee,Dr K. M. Naha, E. G. Nathaniel,Dr D. Nyogi, the Oxford Mission, Mr Pal, Umakana Pattanaik, Bimoy Ron Dr D. S. Roy, Mrs RanjanaRoy, RashbehariRoy, Dr Santra,Dr K. C. Sarbad.hicari, Dr Jyotimoya Sarma,N. E. Seager,Dr U. Sengupta, Gajendra Shankar,Ajoy Kumar Singb A. R. Singh, Niren Singb S. C. Singh, S. K. Singh, the Rev. Krishna SwamS Father Peter Thorman, the United Society for Propagating the Gospeland the Rev. Michael Westall. My thanks to the principal and staff of Bishop's College, Calcutta and the staff of the Library of CongressManuscript Division, the CentennialMuseum of El Paso,the India Office Library and the London Library. I am grateful too to Diana Cooksonand JaneJameswho typed the manuscriptwith such I owe more than a professionaldebt to skill and perseverance. Peter CarsonofAllen Lane for believingin this book from its early, unpromising beginnings and subsequently for his patienceand editorial exactitude. €ncouragement, I would alsolike to thank the following for the useof copyright materials quoted in this book: the Gesell Institute of Child Developmeng the Library of Congress,Gerhard A. Geselland Mrs Preti Lota Jana. Finally I would like to thank Edward Goldsmith, who introducedme to the subjectof feral man and suggestedthat I write not the book I havewritten, but one somethinglike it.
MAYURBHANJ (oRlssA) DensesatJmgla
. Nafgoia oDEnganalla
Introduction
ln rg4z Harper and Brothers of New York published a book called Wolf{h;1tr tn and Feral Man. Although a work of some academic pretensions, representedas 'a definitive review by a well-known anthropologist' of the extant literature on extremecasesof isolation,'wildt men and animal-reared children, it anticipated a wide public by the incorporation of a unique and sensationaldocument. Held to be the true accountby an Indian missionaryof his attempts to rehabilitate two children recently found living with wolves in the iungles of Bengal, The Diarl of the Wolfchildren of Midnapore by the Rev. J. A. L. Singh, available for the first time in print, promised to supply the reader with 'a series of facts such as no novelist's imagination could have invented'. The many legendary heroes from Romulus to Tarzan, known to have been suckled by wild beasts and to have acquired in consequencethe more desirable qualities of their foster-mother's species,failed to find a place in the book alongside the Midnapore wolf children on the grounds that they belonged to the realms of mythology a different province of study. The author af Wolf-Children and Feral Man, F.:obet M. Zngg, an associateprofessor of anthropology at Denver University, preferred to concentrateon 'historical' cases,classifiedby the eighteenthcentury naturalist, Carl Linnaeus, as homoferus or feral nxrn - an altogether less appealing creature, which ran about on all fours having gained the habits, bodily strength and sharp sensesof an animal, but lost the human faculties ofspeechand reason.To give persp€ctiveand background
to the Midnapore diary, Dr Zingg included in his collection of feral oddities the famousaccountsof the Wild Boy of Aveyron, Caspar Hauser and Wild Peter of Hanover (victims of extreme isolation, though not thought to have been raised by animals), as well as n-umerousstories of children for whom some feral connection had been established with a variety of animal speciesincluding leopards, wolves,bears,sheep,pigs and catde. Of the forty or more case histories rounded up by Zingg, mostly from Europe and Asia and dating from the fourteenth cenfury to the more recent past, a high proportion dealt with wolf children. 'An account of Wolves nurturing Children in their Dens', published in r85z by Colonel William Sleeman,who travelled widely in North India and took an amateurinterestin the subject,provided Zingg with much of his best material. However, the evidence in support of wolf and other animal-reared children, if only due to the remotenessor antiquity of most cases,was far from conclusive. Since the time of Linnaeus the subject had been a focus of controversy, with most scientistsregarding storiesof feral children as the stuffof mlth rather than experience.Dr Zingg's book, although labelledan impartial review, was clearly aimed at removing their doubts and, in presentingThe Diary of the Wolfcltild.renof Midnapue as the first case that fulfilled 'all the primary conditions for an acceptablescientific datum', at raising feral man to the safts of scientffic respectability. When I first read the Reverend Singh's diary I was alreadyawarethat Dt Zingg had failed in his mission. On publication, LTolf-Childrm and,Feral Man had caused a small stir in academic circles: a number of respected authorities had acceptedit as true, others equally respected had not beenconvinced,while still othershad dismissedit as rank nonsense:the controversyhad flared briefly, then burnt itselfout. I was,nonetheless,fascinatedby the diary
z
3
and despiteits evidential limitations I felt certain that it containedsometruth. On the strength of that conviction, without knowing any more about the subject,I decidedto invcstigatethe ReverendSingh's story and his world and try to find out what happened. Although the events describedin the diary took place fifty yearsago, I believedthat I should be able to produce enough evidence to satisry myself and others whether or not a human being had ever beenfosteredby wild animals. There were more recentcases,as I soondiscovered,which might have been easier to investigate: a gazelleboy of the SpanishSahara,allegedlystill running about the desertin 1966, Ramu the wolf boy of Lucknow, monkey children from Teheran and Ceylon,evenPatrick, the chickenchild, whoseparentshad kept him in a hen-housefrom the age of two to seven-and-a-half;but, apart from this last and gruesomely domestic case (from the records of the N.S.P.C.C.), on prima focie evidence they all seemed suspectfor one reasonor another. Last year an ape boy from Burundi with apparently respectable credentials was revealedby an American psychologistto be a fake, his monkey-likefeaturesand mannerismsdiagnosedas the result of mental illness. There were also better documented cases of feral children, in particular the Wild Boy of Aveyron, who in somewayshad amore interestingstorythan the Midnapore wolf children. The accomplishmentsof the boy's teacher and benefactor, Jean-Marc ltard, whose careful observations and skilled experiments on 'Victor' made a small but significant contribution to sensoryeducation and the study of human development, cannot in fairness be compared to the untrained efforts of an Indian missionary. But, for reasonsthat were no doubt more profound than I appreciated,I was captivatedby the idea ofa connection between children and animals, and the question of whether it had ever happened seemedto me as a non-scientist more important than the conclusions which might be
drawn from a similar case in which animals wene not involved. In the beginning it was this optimistic and perhaps naive quest for the tmth that sustainedme along the trail of the wolf children. Although Zingg and Singh were both dead,my investigations beganbravely enough with the assumptionthat the original of the missionary's diary and a collection of papers belonging to theanthropologist must still exist. The search for these documents took me on a wild goosechaseacross middle America from Kentuc[y to El Paso and back. In WashingtonD.C., under the quiet ceilingsof the Library of Congress,I discoveredthat the papers had indeed existed, but had since been lost. During the war a box containing all Dr Zingg's materials on feral children had been sent from Denver to Yale where, on the recommendationof Dr Arnold Gesell (who had himself written a book on the subject), they were to be housed in the medical library. The documents, it seemed, had arived at Yale, but mystetiously disappearedbefore reaching their final destination. In Yale I checked with every library on the campus, but there was no record anywhere of a wolf-children deposition.Somewhatdespondendy,for the more I pursued the missing papers the more significant and graillike they became in my imagination, I went to see Dr Louise Bates Ames, co-director of the Gesell Institute of Child Development, who had assistedthe late Dr Gesell in his work on the wolf children. Since she could do no more tlran confirrn the unfortunate loss of the papers, I resigned myselfto asking rather pointless questions about what the Zingg collection had contained. I was hardly surprised in the middle of this lugubrious interview to notice that Dr Arnes's attention was beginning to wander. Suddenly she rose to her feet. There was a box-room in the roof of the Institute where bits and pieces,mostly old junk, were stored, but just possibly some other materials
4
might have reached up there by mistake. It took us a few moments to get from her office to the top of the stairs. Arming ourselves with torches, we pulled down a folding Iadder from the ceiling and climbed up into the attic. Almost at once, in a dark corner under the rafters, I came upon the box. Beneath the layers of dust and grime I could just make out by the circle of torchlight the name of Robert M. Zingg. The Reverend Singh's diary was not among Zingg's papers (only an edited manuscript of the published version), but the box containeda wealth of correspondence, amounting to several hundred letters, about the wolf children of Midnapore. The collection was to form the basis of my investigation; and, although the search had only just begun, it is difficult to seenow, on looking back, what I could have hoped to achievewithout it. Indeed, the successof my researchinto the wolf-children saga ulti. . mately dependedon this one lucky find, My original intention had been to give a complete accountofthe research,to allow the readerto follow every turn of the investigation, to share every break-through, setbackand dead end, but by the time I returned from India the story of detection had grovn so long and complex that I had to abandonthe idea. I decidedinstead ro recreatethe eventsofSingh's extraordinarydiary from all the sourcesat my disposal,but to exercisemy judgement in the choice of material and with no less nespectfor the truth. By this method I hoped to bring more light to bear on the character and background of the Reverend Singh, who soon enough emerged as the key to any understandingof what really happened.It is to his memory that I dedicatethis iourney into one of the strangerand more remote regionsof human experience.
ChapterOne
In a shimmer of heat the Down local from Kharagpur, trailing a pall of black smoke from the efforts of pulling its overloadedcoachesup tlle gradient, slowly swept into the embankmentstraightandcametowardsthe station.The zun glancing off its engine platesseemedto galvanizethe small crowd on the platform, breakingthe spell of lethargy cast over them by the excessiveheat. They began to move all at once, collecting their belongings, rising from their hunkers and pressingforward to the edgeofthe phtforrq mobilized for the anival. The saisfrom the orphanagg still squatting with friends under the platform awning sipping green coconut water, waited until the train was well into the station beforeleavingthe shadefor a strategic position opposite the parcels godown, where the last carriageusually stopped.He stood smiling up indiscriminately at the passing squashof faces that strained from every opening in the iron-red carriages, grimacing as the train squealedto a halt. At the sight of the tall figure in white standingaf the doorway of the First Classcompartment he put his hands together and, making a steepleof his fingers, lowered his head in a particularly elaborate display of reverence,a $eeting which the Bengalis usually reservefor imagesof the divine. Mr Singh acknowledgedhis servanrwith an impatient wave and waited for the roar of the final releaseof steam to die away before stepping down from the train, one hand holding up the skirt of his long summer cassock,the other proffered to a young tribal boy in gamchas,whom he was trJnng to coax down the steps of the neighbouring Third
Classcarriage with an encouraging smile. The boy seerned as much afraid of the missionaryas he was of the train. A giant beside native Bengalis, Mr Singh stood two inchesover six foot and was broad in proportion, confirming the Hindu preiudice that Christians only grow so big and sffong becausethey eat beef. He was dark-skinned,as dark as the jungle boy himself, which combined with a military bearing and the rather fierce set of his features to betray his Raiputani ancestry.As a younger man he had been thought handsome,'a iolly fellow' who sported a twirlable moustacheand dressedto fashion,cutting a dash among his Indian contemporariesat Calcutta University. Now at forty-two, growing heavy about the iowls and proud to wear only the simple habit of his calling, the epithets of his youth were no longer apt. A dignified rnanner,solemnvoice and deep-set,thoughtful eyes- their serious, even stern, expression reinforced by the uncompromisingline of the mouth - told of a complex and embattled character,not without humour or kindnessbut driven with religious certainty, pressedinto the serviceof a foreign God as much by his own inclination and ambition as any accidentofbirth. The salstook over from Mr Singh and without ceremony pulled the boy out of the trainl then, making a quick secondobeisanceto the padre, he turned and led the way along the platform, clearing a path through the throng of passengers,porters, hawkers and gariwallafiswith a rimfire invective that had the desired effect without causing offence to his master. A broken-down dld man rn dhoti and regulation red shirt that hung in tatters from his insufficient shouldersstruggled with the baggage,dragging after him a tin steamer trunk that set up litde dust devils in its wake, which the boy, recoveredfrom the ordeal of the train, idly stamped on vrith his bare feet. The saishad kept the horse and tom-torn waiting in the full sun. Mr Singh reprimandedhim sharplyashe gathered his cassockand swung himself up into the driver's seat.
Even in the hot weather he always preferred to drive hinrself unless the occasion demanded a different sort of digntty. The servant threw a few paise to the porter, then he and the boy squeezedinto the cab alongsidethe baqgage as the horse took the strain and the orphanagerig lurched forward on to the streets of Midnapore. The town'lay on the far side of the railway ffacks. Here the land is quite flat and the buildings so well camouflaged by greenery that even from the vantage point of the embankment there is nothing to be seen beyond the impressive fagadeof St John's Church, an ochre eminence solid against the sea of brilliant vegetation.From the air Midnapore might appear as an emerald caught in the coil of a slow brown snake,for on three sides the river Kasai takes a protective loop about its limits; but its true character only reveals itself on closer inspection. Like so much of British India it wasreadily divisible in two: the western 'the clerkst quarters', with red half, sometimes called brick public institutions and Government officers' bungalows neatly laid out within extensive compounds and protected by avenues of shade-giving trees: and to the south, the town proper with its narrow streets, twisting lanes and uowded bazaarsfull of old crumbling houses, brackish tanhs and ramshackle bustees,where for want of adequate drainage and ventilation cholera was endemic until the pilgrim traffic shifted to the railways at the end of the last century. Yet the teeming squalor in which most of its 3orooo inhabitants lived, then as now, repeating the daily rituals of an existence unchanged since medieval times, doing business with each other or talking politics in the bazaarsover cups of sweet milky tea, had more of Iife to offer than the salubriousand sedateenclaveoftheir European administr"ators. A place of consequence,as its name 'the city of the world' suggests,Midnapore had always been the administrative centre of the district - a high proportion of
lawyers,clerks, teachersand educatedbabuscontributing to an unusual degreeof sophisticationand political awareness among its people. In earlier times 'administration' had a distinctly miliary flavour and the names of town quarters,like Colonelgolaand Sepoy Bazaar,as much as the massive ruin of an old Mog.ul fort that occupies the centre of the town, bear witness to its unsettled history. Midnapore, being a border district and commanding the main road to Orissa,wasconstantlydisputedby successive dynasties from the ancient Mauryans to the wild and bloodthirsty Marathas. Among the oldest settled districts of British India - finally securedfor the East India Company by the middle of the eighteenthcentury after a prolonged struggle - it seemed to Robert Reid, a young district officer posted there that sameyear of r9r5, to be 'full of ghosts'. In the green and spaciouswestern half of the town, 'the station', as the British liked to refer to what they once regarded as no more than temporary encampments, though everywherein India they built massivelyand with a view to permanence,Mr Reid occupied a huge white barcackof a bungalow, said to have been used by Warren Hastingsasa country residence,now infestedwith termites and snakes.At the bottom ofhis compound, guarded by the decayingtomb ofan Indian athletesaint,an old racquet court (often a feature of British occupation before lawn tennis became fashionable) and a disused racetrack choked by lantana bushes, reverberatedthe echoesof a more leisurely and distinguished past. In the infantry lines the officerst quarters of a regiment that once fought insurgent tribes on the Orissaborder had been taken over by American Baptists; but between the orderly rows of huts, there still stood the rusted 'bells-olarms' from the days of the Mutiny - relics that must have seemed haunted enough to a Government contingent, reduced now to a handful of men who rattled about the station in ro a slightly unconvincing manner.
The 'native'town waslesstroubled by ghosts,for there decay and gxowh kept each other in check, while its own not uninteresting history was constantly assimilatedand submergedin the daily strugBlefor existence.Since r9o5, Midnapore had been at the centre of sustainedresistance to the partition of Bengal, which at Lord Curzon's insistence had divided a province and people united since earliest times, apparently for the sake of administrative convenience.A political blunder that would haverepercussionsdown the forty yearsthat remainedto the Raj, it had the immediateeffect of precipitating Indian nationalismin Bengal to the revolutionary phase. In Midnapore there had been an unsuccessfulattempt in December rgo7 to blow up L tain carrying the Lieutenant-Governor of Bengal at Narayangarh. Three months later and two hundred miles away in Mozufferpore, a bomb of identical design, intended for the District Judge, had killed the wife and daughter of Mr Pringle Kennedy, the leader of the local bar. The ladieshad been returning from a bridge eveningat the club in a carriage similar to the Judge's, when two men ran up out of the shadows,one with a silver object' held high above his head which he threw into the open victoria. The bomb struck Miss Kennedy on the side, blowing her backwards against her mother and leaving what remained of both women's bodieshanging from the shatteredrear portion of the carriage,hair trailing in the dust as the frightened horse dragged the wrecked conveyancedown the road. Lurid press descriptions of how the innocent women died fuelled the senseof outragethat swept India; though at Simla, an editorial in the Statesmrr hastened to re assureits readers,discussionof the bomb attackwas characteristically phlegmatic: 'It is not the British way to raise eyes and hands to heaven, or to waste much time in uselessthough pertinent interjection.'l In Midnapore the reaction could hardly be so contained,-forthe perpetrator
of the outrage,arresteda few days afterwards,furned out to be one of her own sons, a young nationalist called Khudiram Bose.At the sametime investigationsinto the Narayangarh train-wrecking attempt had revealed the existenceof a revolutionary cell in Midnapore, which was planning to assassinate the District Magistrate and every other Europeanin the district. The police had acted swiftly: On 3 Septemberr9o8 the town was thrown into panic by the arrest of more than r5o people, among them severalprostitutes and two Rajahs, on suspicion of conspiracy.There was protest from nationalist quarters, but a meeting at the Bayley Hall in Midnapore to pledge loyalty to the Goyernment and express outrage at recent terrorist activity was attended by five hundred of the local gentry - among them Mr Singh, at that time Headmasterof the local Mission High School - who sang the National Anthem and moved a number ofconfident and loyal resolutionsto protect their town, and'indeedBengaland the Empire, from the brutal crimes of the revolutionary movement. History, past and fufure, would find their confidence, if not their loyalty, misplaced. Ever since Macaulay had publicly slanderedthe Beng:alisby calling tlem a race of cowards and the Government had subsequentlyexcluded this cleverestand most passionateof Indian people from the army on the grounds that they were not sufficiendy tough or war-like, they had taken deep and lasting offence. Partition had added iniury to inzult. Somesaid it was done deliberately,that Lord Curzon had seen trouble coming and was out to crush the Bengalis first; but in any event he succeeded only in strengthening the resolve of the revolutionaries and their supporters against the British. Midnapore would remain in the front line of their sometimes overt but mostly surreptitious war. The village of Tantigoria" where the Singhs had moved on their return from Calcutta iust before the outbreak of
12
the Great War, lay outside the municipal limits to the north-west of Midnapore, a mean cluster of huts backing on to scrub jungle, barely half a mile from the railway station. Their house stood well apart from the rest of the village on the right hand side of the road that leads to Gope, set back in a.large tree-filled garden, hidden from view by a brushwoodfence and a handsomepair of gates. A wooden plaque advertisedthe house, which could be seengleamingwhitely through the ffees, as'The Home'. Singh had chosenthe name becauseit seemedparticularly suitable for a mission-houseand orphanage combined, and whenever he stopped there in front of the gates,as now, waiting for the mali,hopefully alerted by the barking of the dogs,to come and open them, he felt a certain pride in its simple appeal.He was proud, too, of the association with that great missionary institution, The Society for the Propagation of the Gospel in Foreign Parts, which had sent him here as a Deacon of the Anglican Church with a licence in his pocket sealed and signed by the Metropolitan of India 'to preach and extend the word of God as a Missionary'. The document, dated r8 January r9r3, hung now above the desk in his office and he knew its solemnwording by heart. Although he recognizedand often repeatedthat his work here'in the Lord's Vineyard' had hardly begun,in four shoft yearshe had built up 'The Home' from a half-ruined farmhouse on the edge of the Narajole estate to an establishment worthy of the good name he had given it. Taking the ton-tom between tl, e gates and up the drive at a fast trot, he swept round the circle of grasslesslawn in front of the house and pulled up opposite the portico under the shade of a magnificent iack-fruit tree which dominated the compound. He climbed down and stood there for a moment enjoyng respite from the sun while the sais took the reins and began to lead the horse away to the stable.The boy remained by his side looking about in furtive wonder.
The Reverend Singh's eye was more critical. The orphanage buildings, consisting at present of his own house, a square stone bungalow lime-washed white with green louvred shutters, and two wings of thatched huts built on behind for the children, forming an agreeable courtyard, which served temporarily as an open air school, playground and kitchen, still fell short of his ambitious plans.The front of the house, owing to lack of funds, had not yet been completed; both the portico and the prayer room beyond, which led on to the drawing room, were open to the sun and rainl but the need for improvement to the Singhs' own quarters could not be regardedas a priority. From the far end ofthe compound the impression was of an imposing and comfortable residence. It was pleasantto be in the garden.Mrs Singh, waiting in the shade of a pillar on the front steps, came over to meet them under the tree carrying a glassof water for her husband. They greeted each other with customary reserye. Introducing the boy, Jageswar, to his new 'mother', the Reverend Singh explainedto her in Bengali that he was a Santal, the son of Bhagobat Khatua of Salgaria.He was twelve years old and had come to live with them at the orphanagefor a few yearsbecauseit was his father's wish that he should receive the benefits of schoolingand upbringing in truly Christian surroundings. Although she could not speak Santali, Mrs Singh, who knew Bhagobat,her husband'smost valued Readerin the south of the district and stalwart of his mission to the Santals,from his occasionalvisits to Midnapore, received the boy warrrly and, urging her husband to go and ake test, led him away to the back of the houseto meet the other children. Although tired from the journey - it had taken them four days by bullock cart from Salgaria to Kharagpur Singh ignored his wife's advice and after washing off the dust of kutcha ruads, setded down at his desk to write a
15
long overdue report to the District Board of Missions. He had to have it ready by the morning as tomorroril they were expecting a visit from the Bishop of Calcutta, the Right Reverend George Lefroy. The visit, itself a rare and prestigiousevent, on this occasionwas something more: Mr Singh believed his future and that of the orphanage dependedon it. He knew that his work had met with the approval of both the Diocesan Council and the S.P.G. and that they were pleased with what he had achieved at the orphanager.buthe needed more than their praise and encouragement- he neededthe assurancethat his work would be allowed to continue. He wanted them to recognize that the orphanage was not merely a charitable institution, but an effective way of spreadingthe Word, that those who had been brought up in the Christian atmosphereof 'The Home' would one day go back to the iungles and convert their heathen brothers. Some of the boys and girls in his care, like the newly arrived Jageswar Khatua, were not orphans at all, but had families who either could not afford to feed them or wanted them schooled.He took in widows and destitutes and child prostitutes; but most of the children, as he put it in his report, were'picked up from the streetsin Santaliaand Kharagpur and taught the priceless Love of Our Lord from their infancy'.2 These reports never varied much, giving pride of placq after the obligatory parish news, to the orphanagel detailing the number of children (which stood usually in the low twenties), listing the names of the Managing Committee, praising the good work of the teachers and generosity of 'the sympathetic Church members, both European and Indian, in the Station, who have been the chief supporters of the institution'.3 He always rounded off with a somewhatnaive vote of thanks to Mrs Singh, 'the Honorary Lady Superintendent'ashe dubbed her, 'who is the life and soul of this establishmentand has nobly given up her home and compound to the orphans'{
- as if he himself had had nothing to do with it. And ttlen came the inevitable request for more money. The orphanage was permanently in financial distress. Because it lacked various facilities, it was not recognized by the education department. It failed, therefore, to receive substantial grants from the District Board and the Municipality, which meant that the money collected from charity, the S.P.G. and the C.hurch was spent in running the orphanageinstead ofbeing set aside to make the necessary improvements to qualify for Government aid. What Singh hoped for from his Bishop was the promise of a large enough sum to buy the parcel ofland, for which he had been negotiating with the Rajah of Narajole for several months now, so that he could establishthe orphanagein its own buildings. As it happened,Singh's work had recently receivedsome favourablepublicity: a visiting missionaryhad published his impressionsof 'The Home' in the diocesanmagazine, painting an idealized picture of the Indian Christian institution at work,s The article did not mention the financial diffculties of the orphanage,but in stressing,the importance of such institutions it expressedconcern that they should be allowed to founder. The appeal would undoubtedly strengthenMr Singh's hand. And there were otherswho had visited the orphanageduring the last year, offered advice and encouragement and talked enthusiastically of Singh's achievementon their return to Calcutta. He had made every effo'rt to earn their praise, conscious after four years in the Diaconate that he was due for advancementto the priesthood, and that the Bishop's support for the orphanagewould depend to a large extent on whether or not he thought him ready for ordination. Although priests were always in short supply in India and native recruits usually welcomed witl open arms, bectuse the accusationwas often levelled that Indians only turned to Christianity for what they could get out of it in the way of iobs and improved social status, grester care was taken
r
7
in selectingand sorting candidaresthan might otherwise have beenthe case. Joseph Singh's credentials,before he ever showed any interest in becoming a priest, were held to be above reproach. His ancestorscame from Bundelkhand in Rajputan and belonged to the Kshatriya or warrior caste. Traditionally they had alwaysservedin the military until his grandfather,JosephHiralal Singh, at the time also a soldier, had fled from the Sepoy Mutiny in 1857 and settled in Bengal. He was the first Christian convert in the family and in later life becamea priest and a missionary, devoting his considerableenergy and a substantial part ofhis inheritance to founding and running the Local Mission High Schooland,sening a precedentfor his grandson, opening a small orphanage in Midnapore. One of Hiralal's sons, Luther, followed him into the clergy, but Joseph's father, Timothy Singh, entered Government serviceas a clerk, Iater becoming Sheristadan(inspector) of the Moonsiff's Court in Bankura. Joseph, the eldest offive children, was brought up there and educatedat the Wesleyan Mission School. He did well at his studies, developinga talent for oratory and languages,and in 1893 becamethe first memberof the family to passthe entrance examination for Calcutta University, entitling him by the terms of his grandfather'swill, who died that sameyear, to a large zum of money to be spent on further education in England. But much to his family's dismay, Joseph, who had fallen in love with a police inspector's beautiful daughterfrom Murshidabad and wantedto marry her (love matches were not the convention even among Christian Indians), rejected the offer on the pious grounds that, if he accepted,he would be depriving his poorer relations of the money which would otherwise be distributed among them. After six years of study at Bishop's C.ollege, still accredited in those days to Calcutta University, Joseph Singh received a Faculty of futs Diploma at the second
attempt and was awarded a gold medal for coming first in English recitation,though he failed to get his B'4. While still at college he had married Rachel Mninmoye Singh against his parents' wishes and with only the grudging consent of his parents-in-law, who disapproved of the match becausehe was dark-skinned. On graduating he found that they could not return home since his mother, a formidable wolnan, from whom he had inherited a violent temper, would not allow Rachel in the house. The young couple moved to H*zaribagh, where Singh taught mathematics at the Dublin University Mission School for two years and then returned to Calcutta and another teaching post, which qualified him for the Headmastership, recently fallen vacant, of the Local Mission High School in Midnapore, founded by his grandfather. In spite of his rejecting the Reverend Hiralal's generousbequest, Singh had always admired his grandfather and was delighted to follow the path he had trod. He accepted the appointment and, with his wife and three children, came to Midnapore in the summer of r9o6. He took his new job seriously, working hard to raise the academicstandardsofthe schooland never failing what he consideredhis first duty as a Christian preceptor. Dr Kshitish Sarbadhicari,whose father becamethe Singh's family physician, remembers him as a kind and useful teacher, something of a disciplinarian, yet popular with the children becausehe made jokes and in May always distributed the fruit from the school'smango treesamong them. But when it cameto religion he found him distinctly (Every day before schoolwe used to gather over-zealous: in the Hall and he would stand solemnly in front of us with his hands together - the palms turned up, one overlaying the other * forming a circle below the waist; the children, most of whom were non-Christian, would all have to do the same while we prayed for at least five minutes - that can be a long time for a small child. Every
I
day we did this.'6Out of school,the headmasteralso found time to help the local padre as catechist,teaching the life of Christ, preparing converts for baptism, visiting Indian Christian families, and every Sunday travelling over to Kharagpur to conduct a servicein Hindi for the railway's migrant workers who did not know Bengali. There was no doubt that Singh had a natural propensityfor this kind of work and the issue arose whether he might not beffer serve his God from within the Church rather than as a lay teacher. The question was ultimately resolved in rgro by the sudden closure due to financial difficulties of the Mission school in Midnapore. An invitation arrived from the Bishop of Calcutta for Singh to study theologyat Bishop's Collegefor the Diaconate.At the sametime he was offered another Headmastershipby the Education Department; but he had no difficulty in making up his mind in favour of the Church. He would write later of having received 'the Ca11',of persistentdreamswherein mysteriousfigures 'a big yawning in shining white robes led him across 'the Altar'. And grave' and brought him faceto facewith no doubt he did have a vocation, though there were other considerationstoo. During his four years as a teacher at Midnapore one event in particular may have decided the course of his career. Certainly it is given momentous significance in Singh's own accounts of his life, where he tells in loving detail how by application of Chlorodyne and prayer he had once cured a young tribal boy attending his school of cholera.The boy's relativesand friends were so impressed 'mantras' that they by his teacher's magical Christian came to him to learn more about the power of the 'Great Healer'. By the end of the year Mr Singh could take credit for some forty Santal baptisms. After being escorted by his new friends on a three-week tour of their villages in the jungle he was able to claim even more. On that trip, enioying the extraordinary beauties
and freedom of lungle life, he discovered his missiortary vocation: We felt that it was a direct call from the Lord Jezus, and firlly believed that the Lord had actually called us to these people, His disciples to unfold the Gospel to them while they wete so eager to accept the Maser , . , it was clear tley did believe in the prayers and supplications to Our Lord Jesus and were willing to accept Him as their Lord in place of their Gods and Goddessescalled'Bongas'. In all this we found the reverse principle of EvangelisrnThe Missionaries and the Preachers generally go to the people to preach unto them the Gospel of Our Lord. But here the principle is different. The people themselvescame to seekthe Lord and found Him.7
As soon as he had finished his report to the Distria Board of Missions tlle padre began to clean and oil the two guns he alwaystook with him on his trips to the iungle, calling through to his wife to prepare tea for the arrival of his first visitors, the Brothers of the Poor, a charitablesociety which he had started in Midnapore to succour the lepers, cholera victims, prostitutes and untouchablesof the town, whom no one else would help. A group ofyoung volunteersmet regularly under Reverend Singh's presidency at 'The Home' to discussand plan their work. Because they had no religious or political affiliation, their work was recognizedby all and did much for Singh's reputation among the people of Midnapore. It would be false to suggestthat he deliberatd cultivated the esteem in which he was beginning to be held for selfish reasons,but he believed his position as head of a Christian community that numbered only r5o Bengalis and a handful ofEuropeans in a town of 3o,ooopagaffL required him to set an example that could be seen by Hindu and Moslem alike as the embodiment of Christian faith and morality in action. This sometimesmeant, as in the case of the Brothers of the Poor, suppressingthe Christian interest in favour of his own, but for political
rather than for personal reasons, since Christianity was regardedby many Indians asthe religion ofthe conquering race, an extension of the power of the Raj, and derided as such. The Reverend Singh could not hope to avoid censure altogether. In many ways he did not want to, for in political terms he saw Christianity and British rule in India as supporting and iusti$'ing each other, and if he did not always distinguish too carefully betwern his loyalty to the Raj and his duty to the Church, it was becausehe loved both with equal passion. Standingon a chair, he placedthe guns on a shelfabove his desk out of reach of the orphanagechildren and his own son, Daniel, who was almost fwelve years old now and at boarding school in Hazaribagh.He had forbidden him to touch them on pain of chastisement,although he knew there was little dangerof his doing so, for somewhat to his father's disappointment the boy showed little interestin fire-armsor hunting. They shareda fondnessfor animals, but that was spoiled by Singh's greter love of shikar. Apart from the excellent opportunities for sport affordedby his long missionarytours in the iungle he often used to shoot with friends nearer home. There were shikar patties organized by the Rajahs of Narajole and Jhagram, informal expeditions with the British officials and the simplepleasureof going out with a gun behind the house and walking up snipe, hare and other small game for the pot. But he took c?renot to becometoo well known as a hunter. Although he could easily be persuadedto tell the story ofhow he got his'stripes', as the Bengaltiger was affectionatelyknown, he kept few trophies other than some rather poor specimensof chital and black buck, which gathered dust high on the walls of his office. There was nothing in the drawing room which might have offended visiting parishioners or ecclesiastics.Not that most missionariesdid not hunt, and were even obliged to on occasion, but he had to think of the devout Hindu who was opposedto the killing of any animal and of his
missionary superiors who might accuse him of spending too much time with a gun under his arm in lieu of a bible. The European community, however, understood his predicament and sympathized, for now that pigsticking and polo were beyond the purse of most district officers, hunting was theh chief outdoor recreation and if an Indian could share the pleasuresof this manly pursuig the enlightened among them welcomed the chance of fraternization on tlre safesocial ground of jungle andjheel. For ReverendSingh there were other points ofcontact with the British that he prized more highly, not the least being his university education and command of the English language, which allowed him to tender with pleasureand a certain pride his servicesas interpreter to the District Judge and the Collector in difficult or important cases.But it wasthrough the Church that he camemost into contact with the tTwice Bornt and was able in some casesto establish relationships that he believed transcended the racial barrier in a way that would have been impossiblefor a Hindu or Moslem. Probably his finding favour with the British had as much to do with the fact that he camefrom Rajputanand belongedto the Kshatriya warrior caste,which in their eyesmade him 'a man', as acceptableas the loyal, honest Pathan or Puniabi and raisedhim abovethe level of the Bengalibabus,whomthey regardedasshiftless,untrustworthy, effeminateand always 'too clever by half'. Over the years to come Reverend Singh would pay court to each successiveDistrict Magistrate, a policy exercised as a matter of course by all the leading loyalist citizens of Midnapore, but in his casenot so much becausehe needed their cooperation in his work but becausehe believedthat his education,socialstanding, his very 'Britishness' entitled him to their company. In reality his successwould depend largely on the devoutness of the individual magistrateand the interest he showedin Church matters, but pride would never allow Reverend Singh to admit that he occupied any but a specialplace
22
in the heart of his British masters. There were a few, of cours€, who within the limits of propriety accepted and returned his friendship, not merely for professional expediency, but because they liked him and respected him. In spite of his short temper and schoolmaster's pompous manner they saw Singh as a reliable man of some charm and sophistication, who held strong, oversimple and rather rigid convictions, but lived more or less according to the principles on which they were founded; and if his attempts to be more British than the British were a little galling at times, it was a common enough fault among educated Indians, and he made up for it with a sense of humour more highly developed than mosg whose comic disposition had been nurftred by a climate in which irony would not grow. In Kharagpur, where he and the bon Jageswar, had qpent last night on their return from Salgaria, Reverend Singh had attended t cafechantantat theRailway Institute. The evening had been organized by his supervisor,the Reverend G. Reynold Walters, in aid of Church Funds, but Singh may havehad an ulterior reasonfor being there. Godfrey Walters had taken over the chaplaincy at Kharagpur nearly five yearsago and was talking ofretiring, though he had threatened to leave so often during his residence that nobody really knew whether to believe him or not. In those early days Kharagpur, a growing railway town eight miles south of Midnapore, was an onerous and unhealthy parish. Walters' wife had died in the first year they were there. At the time he had been too ill himself with malaria and dysentery to rcalize what was happening. When he returned to consciousnessafter a long bout of fever, he had met his loss with the fortitude expected of a man in his position. But gradually lonelinesshad eroded his strength and as it becameclear to him that he needed a replacement for his wife and had litde chanceof finding one in Kharagpur, he grew morose and bitter. He became
prons to eccentric outbursts, and would sometimes c-rll out in the middle of Evensong'Soul of my souM shall clasp thee again', whereupon his congregation would look away or clear their throats in sympathy. They knew well enough what he had zuffered,but the cemeteriesof Bengal were full of young Englishwomen who had survived the rigorous passageout, only to succumb to the deadly climate soon after arrival. After his wife's death, Walters went into a decline. A difficult rnan to work with, always finding fault and complaining to his superiors in Calcutta, he had become obsessedby the quality of his living arrangements and would dash offletters to the fuchdeacon,scribbled on the backsof First Communion cards,scoredby heavyunderlinings, pointing out the inadequaciesof his bungalow, which he claimed was unworthy of him. In fact the bungalow was large and comfortable, but Walters' obsessionswere revenantsthat could not be laid. That night at the concert he had complainedabout it to Singh, who had heard his colleague'sviews on the subject many times before, but knowing that he might need Walters' recommendationto the Bishop, listened patiently, hoping it was for the last time. Although in his reports over the years Singh had expressed nothing but the warmest gratitude for tlte ce operation and help shown by Walters, the two men did not get on. When Singh was ordained Deacon at Advent r9rz, placed on the list of S.P.G. Clergy and sent to Midnapore, a new district had been addedto the Diocese of C,alcutta" but because he was only a Deacon and a 'native' clergyman, he had to remain for the time being under the wing of the European Chaplain at Kharagpur. The Midnapore Church Committee, however, were opposedto the idea of throwing in their lot with Kharagpur becausethey 'were frightened of being swamped by so large rplace'8, as they put it, though it later emergedthat tlre real reason for their desire to remain independent
24
of Kharagpur had more to do with their low opinion of the wretched and slighdy mad Reverend Godfrey Walters. When Walters happened to discover what the Church C,ommittee thought of hirn, after seeing a letter they had written to the Bishop, he refused to have anything more to do with Midnapore and for a long time associatedSingh with his persecutors. Not that Walters' voice was likely to be decisive on Singh's candidature for the priesthood. He was after all not a missionary but a railway chaplain and the future of the Church in India barely concerned him, whereas on Joseph Singh it rested. Unlike the Government chaplains who had been sent out to care only for the souls of the white-skinnedpopulation (sometimesrefusing to minister to non-Europeans), the Missionary Societies looked ahead to a self-supporting, self-governing Indian Church with Indian Clergy under Indian Bishops as the end airn of the work that they sustained. The Metropolian of India had the difficult task of reconciling both often opposed camps. In that sense Singh's being sent to Midnapore and put in charge of a large new district was a political appointmentand his advancementto the pristhood, although he did not know it, was only a questionof timing. As it turned out it would coincide with \nalters' retirement. 'I remained a Deacon till the yar rgrTr' Singh wrote some years later in a letter to America, 'and the Metru politan, Bishop Lefroy, visited us and was very much pleasedto see the Orphanageand our parish work. He carried a very healthy impression of our endeavour and spokevery highly in the D.B.M. Committee and advised them to strengthenour hands. It was done and the Reverend Gee, the then Secretary,visited us and sympathized with us in various ways and granted us all we wanted. Dr Lefroy had made it implicit on me that I should be ordained a priest .. .'e At the beginning of the rains, a
month or so after the Bishop's visit, a telegram arrived from Father Drnest Brown, the Superior of the Oxford Mission, inviting I. A.L.Singh to come to C,alcuttaand be preparedby him for ordination. Although he had been awaiting a summons, it was a special and unexpectedhonour, for Father Brown was one of the most distinguishedand reveredmissionariesof the day. Having founded the Bishop's College School in Calcutta and reorganized the S.P.G. Mission to the Sunderbans,the vast tiger-infested delta area above the Bay of Bengal, he had practical experienceand understandingof the sort of work in which ReverendSingh was engaged at Midnapore. A man of intellectual vigour, kindliness of heart and simple piety, he was well known and loved about Calcutta,wherehe cut a somewhatbizarre figure becauseofhis enormoussize and eccentrichabit of pedalling through the meanestdistricts of the city, loudly singing and whistling as he disbursedold Christmas cards from a basketattachedto the handlebarsofhis bicycle to bewildered urchins, who soon learnt to cheer and chase the gigantic'PadreSahib'through the streetsin the hope of making him fall off. The Reverend Singh stayed with him at the Oxford Mission on the outskirts of Calcutta from r August till the end of December, making monthly visits to Midnapore to see his family and minister to his parishioners, but otherwise living in retreat among the Oxford Brethren, devoting his time to prayer and study. Father Brown, whose lectures he had attended as a student at Bishops' Collegebefore the war, becamehis teacher, his spiritual counsellor, and moreover a friend, who would turn out to be a useful ally in the difficult times that lay ahead. (letters At the end of the year he witnessedhis pupil's testimonial' to the Bishop, proclaiming him in all conscience'to be, as to his moral conduct, a person worthy '.10 to be admitted to the sacredofrce of priest At 8.3oa.m. on z3 December, a bright cold-weather morning, in St
z6
Mary's Church, Calcutta, Joseph Amrito Lal Singh' dressedfor the last time in Deacon'scassock,surplice of his family,friendsand and stole,beforea congregation thoseclergy of the Diocesewho would take part in ttte Laying-on-of-Hands,wasordainedto the priesthood.
ChapterTwo
The land of the Reverend Singh's missionary forays against the heathen lay to the west and south of Midnapore,a natural border country where the alluvial plains of Bengal meet the rolling wavesof laterite rock that push down from the highlands of central India to the coast, creating a more broken and picturesque scenery. The fertile black earth of flat, neatly cultivated rice swamps givesway to red murrum and laterite outcropscoveredby scrub iungle and, towards the frontiers of the province, by great tracts of sal forest. The undulating countryside appearsalmost park-like, with stately, well-spacedtrees, areasof densegrass,bambooor canebrakesand pleasantly unexpected views; but the land is barren and poor, ftaversed by fast-flowing rivers and water courses, some deeply erodedwith steepbanks,others spreadout in wide expansesof sand and shingle, which flood rapidly but as soon fall away and go to nothing in the dry season.The moment it rains, everywhereluxuriant $owth burgeons forth, yet the soil is nevercloselyclothed, the grassesand vegetation remain rampant and sparse and, underneath, the red skin ofearth can still be seen.The nakedgauntness of the land, cornmon to much of India where the gende contours of more intimate landscape are hardly known" gives it a dramatic beauty, primordial and harsh. In zummer a hot wind blows steadily from the south. The bare soil of the khas dries hard as the undergrowth withers away, leaving often stunted trees starkly revealed. It is as if the jungle had been devastatedby fue - the brilliant scentlessblossomsof flowering shrubs and bright
'
4
wing flashes of silent birds, residual flames flickering in tle autumn heat.An arid, inhospitableland, it is nonetholess denselypopulated; villages,hidden disueetly behind greenclumps of bamboo,guarding their wretchedclusters of paddy-fields, emerge frequently from the pervasive scrub; but as the scenerychangesand the sal forest begins to predomirute, signs of human habitation become 'The further on€ goes from the town,' increasinglyrare. the Reverend Singh wrote,'he finds the scafteredJungle becoming thicker and thicker. About forty miles off, this Jungle becomesvery denseand gloomy. Here and there only footpaths are visible to go into the Jungle, and cart ruts are seldom found. A few miles beyond, no footpath or cart rut can be seen.The vast areaof this denseiungle is impenetrable,the big sal trees being heavily entwined with thick creepers of enormous size spreading over the trees a beautiful canopy of chequered foliage . . .'1 The shade of a sal forest appearsalmost continuous. fu the speciesis gregariousand thicketsofits saplingsgrow extremely close together, other varieties are mostly ercluded, which imposes a remarkable uniformity and architectural beauty on the formation of the forest. The sal itself, a magnificent tree, tall and straight with a pale smooth bark, soars up branchless to its head, which spreads out into a shock of refreshingly green leaves, something like those of a Spanish chestnut. Much in demand as timber, the old sal forests have mostly been cleared now, but in the Reverend Singh's day, although felling had already been going on for a considerable time and the Santals had cleared large areas for cultivation, substantial tracts vere still standing in primary splendour. Like most peoplewho travel through them the padre was not able to resist their fascination. In an account of his early missiop ary voyages,he wrote lyrically: The sceneryis so beautiful and enchantingthat it is difficult to describe.In the forestthe sun could not be seen. . . only a ray of sunshine . . . here and there during mid-day, pepiry
tlrough the treeq bathingits focus with a goldenhue glorious and superb.In the openyou could seeat times a packofdeer graring on the luxurious gtass,but as soon as they cameto know that we wereapproaching,they sprangup in a body and vanished,leaving only the dust in a smokyform coveringthe whole place.It wasa glorioussilenceinsidethe Jungleand the serenecalm pervadedthe whole area bespeakingthe Divine presencein the wood. On a cloudy day you could see the beautiful Peacocksdancingon the trees and on the creepers forming like swingsfrom one tree to another.It wasa pleasant scenery,and I daresayit is only in the lot ofthe Sikariesto see and realizesuchbeautyin tlre Jungle.z In many respects Singh's early missionary tours had as much to do with hunting as they did with evangelizing, for not only was he a keen sportsman himself' but his Santal guides, often thirty or forty strong, accompanied him, as well he realized,'for the love of wild game'. He excusedthem on the grounds that they had to eat and that skins and trophies were a useful way of supplementing 'This was a grand oppornrnity provided by tleir income. the Lord Himself,'3 he declared staunchly, mindful no doubt of his readership in the diocesanmagazine.On tour he always carried with him two guns and a good supply of cartridges,but on long expeditionsammunition sometimesran short and he would have to resort! not without pleasure,to the weaponsof his companions,which usually included an arsenalof bows, knives, battle-axes, flintlocks, spears,horns and hunting drums. Where the Santalswent on foot the padre, who was a sffong walker, alwaysaccompaniedthem, while his servantsfollowed with the bullock carts. They travelled mostly by night when the animals gave a better performance and there was no need to make stops for feeding. An empty kerosene can fixed under eachcart and a stick tied to one of the wheelsserved asa primitive ratchet that made a noise as they went along to avoid any unexpected encounters with leopard, bear or tiger, all of which preferred to walk by night along roads
and cart tracks to spare their pads the roughness of the iungle floor. The men carried long torches made of bamboo poles with a wick of rags stuffed down one end and soakedin oil for the samereason,and if the parry had to spend the night inside the forest they would always sleep within a circle of protective fires. As well as the tools of his trade - bible, leaflets, religious pictures, magic lantern slides - the Reverend Singh carried with him the usual accoutrements of camp life, from galvanized tub and canvaschagalsfor carrying water to the obligatory medicine chest containing quinine and Epsom salts for malaria, and in caseof snakebite permanganate of potash. But the practical advantagesof keepingequipment light were reinforced by the necessity, due to the exffeme shynessof the more remote tribal peoplewith whom Singh was attempting to make contacg of avoiding giving the impression of an invasion. On his earlier voyageshe discoveredthat the aboriginals often ran away and hid in the jungle when they heard he was coming. fusured by his Santal guides that it was his missionary canonicals and,sola topi which frigiltened them, he took instead to wearing a simple gamcltaor loincloth: 'We had to give up our costume, changing it into their mode of dressingand making ourselvesjust like them in appearance.This went on for several years till they got accustomedto us, and understoodus to be their friends.'a It was a slow process and a hard, even dangerous life that at times might have seemed unrewarding had not Singh's true missionary zeal and enterprise been compounded by his great love of the iungle, which the more he learnt of its ways and its inhabitants grew accordingly. It wasa common enough syndrome, sharedby any number of British District Officerswho were devotedto their iobs for the days they could hope to spend under canvas,and who, when they talked of loving India, really meant her forests and her iungles. But their work did not suffer on account - in fact, rather the opposite - and neither did the
Reverend Singh's, whose impressive though probably exaggeratedbag of 7oo Santal converts testifies that he did more with his time in the iungle than shoot tigers. The Santals were by no means the only tribe or scheduled caste to receive the benefit of his missionary intern tions, but theirs was the strongest, most pervasive culture in that part of the district and at the same time the most receptive to Christianity; besides which Singh admired them as a simple, carefree and independent people, with whom he imagined rather wistfully that he enioyed a special affinity. His attitude towards them was nonetheless paternalistic, approving the Sanal character for being honest,open, gentle and brave, while deploring its childlike hedonism and enslavement to superstition. He had no doubts abouf the fitness of his cure, no compunction in supplanting the Santal story of Genesiswith his own, in forbidding their favourite pastime of getting drunk on rice beer, when they would sing and dtnce all night, in banning recitalsof their erotic love poems;nor indecd did he have any understanding that by impugning their Gods and institutions he was undermining the whole structul€ oftheir societyl yet he was not abovelearning from them and always showed interest in the customs he was so earnesdy and righteously engagedin destroying. Through them he discovered many secrets of the forestl and for knowledge of how to call up red jungle fowl by handclapping or take advantageof a sloth-bear's partiality to the intoxicating fruit of the mohua tree, or mark the passageof time by the withering of a sal leaf - the Reverend Singh became a better shikari and perhaps too a more effective missionary, for the Santals, as much impressedby the padre'sphysicalappearance, by his fearlessness and stamina and strength as any offer of salvation, appreciatedhis unfeigned interestin things they knew and loved. The early missionary tours were voyages without destination. Guided by his companions, the Reverend
33
Singh wanderedthrough the forest moving on from village to village, here and there preaching the gospelin Santali" but always concentrating on preparing the ground for return visits. Whenever possible he persuadeda handful of men from eachvillage to accompanythem a short while for the sakeof hunting, and then allowed them to return home where hopefully they would spread the Word or at least create interest among their friends and relations. It was hardly an agg:essivecampaign and as a result hostility was rarely encountered.Once shynesshad been overcome the band of Christians was everywhere received with the hospitality for which the Santalsare famous. Embarrassed sometimesby the effirsion of their welcome, and especially by the ancient Santal custom of washing the feet of any stranger who crossedthe village boundaries, the padre soon got used to what he interpreted as a potentially Christian mark of respect and humility. Whenever the Santal women approachedhim with brass pitchers balancedgracefullyon their hips, their white sarisnot unlike the robes of neophytes and their raven black hair tied behind in a thick knot, decoratedwith flowers and a twist of red silk, he would return the compliment by giving them his blessing. Santal villages, although they vary in size, consist of identically built adobe and thatch housesarranged to a more or less fixed pattern along a single wide and neadykept 'street'. Consequently the Reverend Singh had difficulty in distinguishing between them and, since one part of the great sal forest was very much like another, he often had only a hazy idea of where his travels were taking him. There was no clearly delineated border inside the forest between Bengal and Orissa and sometimes he crossedover, inadvertendy at fust, into the neighbouring feudatory state of Mayurbhani, which lay beyond the bounds and jurisdiction of his parish; but, knowing that apart from rival missionaries no one would really obiect if he were to extend his mission field to include Santal
t
villages on both sides of the border - he could always plead disorientation- the padre soon took to working in Mal"urbhanj on a deliberateand regular basis.One of the villages he visited there, a remote hamlet called Denganalia, which lies on the edge of denseforest due south of Salgaria and the Bengal border some four miles into Mayurbhanj, although in no way different to other small villagesin the neighbourhood,was yet to play a significant part in the extraordinary saga with which the Reverend Singh was about to become closely involved. In Denganalia the Santals gave the following accounts of what happenedin the forest not far from the village one bright moonlit night in late November - the year was r9r4, or thereabouts.Whether the ReverendSingh visited Denganalia between r9r4 and r9zo, and whether he heard this story from the Santalsthen or at any other time is not on record, but there can be little doubt that the Santals' story is directly connected with the events that would take place a few yearslater in the samepart ofthe forest and which would change the missionary's life. fu it rosebeyond the tops ofthe sal, throwing irregular plumes of black and silver crestedleavesinto relief against the sky, the moon reacheddown whereit could find breaks in tlle canopyto the floor of tlle forest. Over open ground it drenched the earth with a flat brillience that defined stoneand thorn and eachtuft ofgrass by a sharpmonotone shadow, the intensity of its illumination restricting movement beyond the protective shadeofthe trees to the fleeting disturbances of minute life. Regular patterns of animal activity had been suspended,leaving the desertedglades and clearings ominously still. In the jungle even a slight change in conditions atrecting survival will uzually weigh to the advantageofthe predator. Driven from the savannawhere they had fed from dusk until moonrise on the thin autumn grass, a herd of chital moved offthrough the forest in searchof saferpasture. In
35
the dim light their shadowy movements were almost indistinguishableas they passedbetweenthe serried trees and thick brakesofrattan and bamboo, cropping rapidly at the scant vegetation, now and then pausing to lift their headsand test the air for scent of danger. The pallor of rufous-fawn coats spotted with white, the lowest series of spots on their flanks arranged in longitudinal rows like broken stripes, camouflagedthem well against the dappled undergrowth. But in leaving the open edges of the forest for the protection of heavy cover they were risking much, limiting their chance of rapid flight, which ultimately is their only effective defenceagainst attack. A light wind rosein the tops of the trees.The herd drew in under the mantle of an ancient pipal inhabited by a colonyoflangurs and beganto feed on the leavesand fruit which the monkeys carelessly let fall from its high branches.The langur's wasteful habits foster a common interaction between the two species,whereby the deer repay the vigilance of the monkeys,on whom they can rely to give early warning of an approaching enemy, by drawing offan attackshouldonedevelop- chital beingthe preferred prey. The langurs were sitting warily, as they always sit to roost, not on the thicker parts but towards the ertremities of the branches,with long grey tails curving down through the leavesto balancetheir hunched bodies. Intermittently they scannedthe surrounding jungle, their watchfulness increasing as the shadowscast by the moon grew shorter. Approaching down wind of the chital the wolf rapidly closed the gap between them and came to a halt a hundred yards out from the tree. Lowering its head to the ground it laid backits ears,then pricked them up againand peered intendy, all its sensesstraining towardsthe deer. It moved on again displaying growing excitement, guickening ie pace and then slowing down, wagging its tail, seeming anxious to rush forward yet managing to hold itself in check, restrained as if by an invisible leash. The distance
closed to less than seventy-five yards. Under the tree, standing close to its bunressed silvery trunk, the chital, although still unawareof being at risk, were beginning to show signsofrestlessness,infected by the nervouschattering of the langurs who had already senseddanger. A prelusive hush swept the jungle like a bow-wave in the path of the advancing wolf. At sixty yards one of fhem saw it break cover and gave the alarm - a noise like a sneezefollowed by a cry of 'Khok, l&olg khok', which was taken up briefly by the rest of the troop as they vanishedabout the byways of their roosting tree, hiding behind heavy boughsand knots of foliage, skilfully drawing branchestogether to screen themselvesfrom view. Although they had little to fear ftom the wolf, some of them fled the pipal altogether,springingawayfrom branch to trranchand, with flying leapsbetn'eentrees,disappeared up into the high canopy. At the first note of warning the chital, uncertainof which way to run, made a sudden headlong dash through the undergrowth, and headedstraight towards the enemy. If they had kept going then, they might have got away, but their first scent of the wolf when they were almost on top of it, stoppedthem in their tracks. A grey shadowswiftly detached itself from the indefinite line of scrub and croucheddown in front of them, not fifty feet away,blocking their path. The two leading stagswith anders under velvet raisedtheir stubbled headsin gesturesof defiance; amid the soft bleating of fawns and the grunts of anxious mothers they stood their ground and returned the wolf's impassivestare. Inhibited by the gazeof its prey, a wolf needsthe stimulus of a running animal to affack. But the chital could only delay the inevitable: in the end they would have to run just as surely as the wolf would give chase. Alreadyit had singledout its victim, a withered old buck standing a little away from the herd. Darker in colouring than the others, with two false points on each brow tine
36
37
where it ioined the main beam of his anders, he was long past his prime and a pack of wolves would have mrde short work of him; but a lone animal, grown accustomed to hunting for hares and bandicoots and other small fry, stood lessthan an evenchanceofa kill. The confrontation began to draw out, tension easing as the wolf turned its headmore often to avoid the eyesof the deer; both seemed ready to relax their guard when, unaccountably, the buck wheeled and charged off through the trees, and the wolf went after him. The rest of the herd bolted, scatteringin every direction, plunging through the undergrowth, offering easy targets at each twist and turn of their laboured flight. The wolf concentrated on the buck. This was the critical stageof the hunt: if it failed to get close in these first few seconds it would lose its only chance to attach for unsupportedit could never hope to run the buck down. At full tilt, bounding after its prey, it madea lunge for the flank and missed,its teeth snappedon air with a noise of boards being clapped together, the buck swerved,jinked and with an extra burst of speed showed his assailanta clean pair of heels.Disadvantagedby the loss of momentum, the wolf quickly fell behind and made no attempt to recover the ground. It ran on a little way before slowing to a trot, then, giving up the chasealtogether,turned back on its tracks. Panting a little after its exertions, but otherwise unaffected, the wolf fell into an easy rhphmic gait, loping along purposefully with elbows held in and paws turned outward, its forefeet swinging in the sameline as its hind feet on each side, in that smooth gliding motion which characterizesthe speciesand, notwithstanding its slightly crouchedhindquarters, makesit one of the most graceful of animals. Smaller, of slighter build and with a thinner shorter coat suited to its tropical habitat, the Indian wolf (canis lapus pallipes) differs in outward appearancefrom its northern relatives,but not enough to be classifiedas a separate species. Supeficially the Indian wolf has more
the look of a iackal or a dog: the mane, ruff, hairy cheela and bushy tail which distinguish the grey wolf of the arctic tundra are scarcely evident, though the pale yellow eyes, permanently alert expression and deadly arrangement of teeth quickly dispel any illusions of domestication. Is colouring can vary from a light ochre to rusty brown with darker guard hairs evenly distributed over the neck, back and ail and whitish underparts (which have earned it the epithet, 'palefooted wolf'), creating from a distance an overall impression of greyness. Behaviour, hunting methodq denning habits and character,though necessarilyadaptedto a different environment, are very similar to those of northern wolves. Formerly a predator of wide open spacesevolved to hunt the herd animals of the plains, the Indian wolf was driven through comperition with man to take refuge in the mountains (a Himalayan sub-species- canis lupus laniger) and in the forestsand jungles of the lowlands.Although it still prefers to hunt in pacls over open ground, in the forest,where it could not make such good use of its speed and staminafor the pack tactics of running animalsdown, the wolf soon learned to live off smaller prey and mostly hunted singly or in pairs. Its range became more limited and its diet more varied, but its innate sociability, the strength of family bonds and capacity for emotional aftachments, which are evolved features of a hunting pack's life, remain unchanged.The wolf family, born as early as November or December, in a litter of three to eight cubs, usually say with their parents, with periods away from home, until they reach full adulthood at two or three years, when they will leave to mate and start their own families. If they do not succeed in pairing off they may return to the family in the role of uncle or aunt; a widowed wolf, who will not usually take a second mate (wolves being stricdy monogamous) may do the same, so that the number of wolvesliving togetherat any time may be high, but numbers will always be regulatedaccording
38
Sg
to the food supply. On the whole, the forest environment encouragessmall families. Shortage of food sometimes forces the wolf to make depredations on domestic stock, earning it the infamous reputation which it has enjoyed for cenfuries throughout most of its range.In India, however,men did not come to fear and hate wolves or to attribute to them the evil characteristics for which the European wolf is so well known in folklore and mythology; and this despite the fact that the Indian wolf, according to district records, was held responsible for the deaths of more human beings than any other animal after the tiger. Contrary to popular opinion wolves, it is now thought, have rarely attacked men, but in India they were known - particularly in times of famine, which threatened the suwival of both men and animals - to prey on defencelesshuman beings, becoming bold enough to enter villages and attack the sick and elderly or steal children. In 19z6 in the districts of Bareilly and Pilibhit, United Provinces, ninety-five people were killed by wolves. The victims were mostly young children, favoured becauseof their size and availability: Indian mothers would take their young with them when they went to work in the fields, leaving their babiesin basketsclose by, but often without proper supervisionand on the very edge of the jungle. No obstacleswere placedin the wolf's path: on the rare occasionwhen a child was seen being carried ofl little or no attempt was made to go after them, for Hindus believed that even one drop of wolf's blood shed anywhere near a village would make their fields infertile. The Santals, however, were bound by no such taboo and wolves, like most other anirnals of the forest, were considered fair game. The wolf broke stride and stopped, lowering its head to investigate a new scent. A hind left cover close by and madeoff hesitantly in the direction of the pipal tree, halting every few yards to look back over her shoulder. Apparently forewarned, the wolfignored her and continued along its
path; not far from where the dam had been standing in the lee of a densethicket, it came upon her fawn hopelessly entangled in a wreath of blackthorn. Without altering its pace it sprang at the struggling creature, dragging it free from the thorn and pinning it to the ground in a single fluid movement. It tore out its throat, lapping quickly at the blood that gushed from the wound, and ripped away a large chunk of flesh from the neck, which it bolted with a few convulsive shakesof the head. The fawn's spindly white legs flailed for a moment in defensive reflex as its belly was slashedopen and its lights spilled smoking on ro the ground, then it lay still. With furtive glancesall aboug the wolf crouched down beside the carcassand began to eat more discriminately, tearing of long strings of fat from the intestinal membrane and chewing them vrith the nice deliberation of a dog champing stems of grass. The muscleson the back of its neck rippled unevenly with the excitations of its jaws, the delicate guard hairs of its mane quivering under a band of light that fell almosr verrically through the trees and seemedto chain the animal to the roof of the forest. The harsh cry of a iungle fowl sounded the all-clear. Life in that quarter of tlre iungle had received the next temporary reprieve. While the wolf fed, immediate danger wasallayed.Gradually the familiar soundsof the night and other noises, peculiar to forests, often unexplainablg returned. The wolf pulled the half-eatencarcassinto the thickot, scraped earth over it and made of. Not far from the kill, as the crow flies perhaps rwo or three miles - the Santal method of measuring distance by the length of time it takes a fresh sal leaf carried in the hand to turn brittle is never yery accurat.. - the wolves had made their den in the enlarged burrow of a porcupine. From under a flat pieceoflaterite on the edgeofa clearing the main entrance, partly concealed by a plum-bush; commanded a limited view acrossthe dried up nullah of t
40
.
4r
sae$h of open scrub bounded on one side by a tamarind grove, marking the site of sorne long-deserted village or cultivation, and the forest wall on the other. There was r second entrance, a tunnel running back into the jungle imrnediately behind the den, but the two young Sanuls from the near-by village of Denganalia,who kept watch on their activities, had not seenthe wolves use it sincethey fir* moved in soon after the end of the rains. For more than three weeks the female wolf had not left the den at all, coming only to the enilance to receive the food, brought by her mate, and eitler eating it there in the den-moudr or taking it back inside, alone. The male made no attempt to follow her - had he done so he would cerainly have been rejected - but remained in the vicinity, lying up in the undergrowth close behind the den durrng the day and ranging more freely by night. After the birth of the whelps some fifteen days ago he had become mote wary and it was only due to their exceptional tracking skill that the Santals had been able to keep up their observation of the animals without disturbing them. Since then they had stepped up their own campaign of waiting for the mom€nt when the female would first Ieavethe den to a nighdy vigil. In position, squatting in the broad fork of the amarind tree since well before dark, they were wrapped in lengths of cotton, thicker and longer than those which made up their ordinary loin-cloths, to protect them from the sudden chill of dew-fall: in a sal forest, the drop in temperature at night canbe a serioushazardl and, asa safeguardagainst snakes,panthers, and perhaps the wolves themselves,each carried his kudi, an instrument combining the virtues of axe, hoe and spade,tucked into his waistband. From where tlrey sat overlooking the nullah not more than thirty yards from the entrance to the den, by the insidious glare of the moon they could make out every detail of the den-mouttr and beyond it seefar enough back into the iungle to locate the opening of the second entrance. Their view of the clearing, however, framed by a careful arrangement of the
feathery leaves and long sicHeshaped fruir of the tamarind, was restricted to the area immediately surrounding the den: they had to be constantlyon the alert in order not to miss anything. When the wolf finally came thar night there was no warning. Distracted a moment by a slight disturbance behind the plum-bush that covered the den mourh, rhey looked back and he was there already, standing immobile in its shadow, calling with a low whine to his mare, whose head had appearedbeyond the fringe ofthe dark hollow. She emergedfully and stood crouching in a submissive posture to greet hirn, wagging her tail as she swung her hindquarters sideways against him. Keeping her ears pinned back she pushed up at his rmzzle with her nose and, lifting one forepawin a playful gesture,begannipping and licking excitedly ar his mouth as if begging for food. The wolf had brought nothing with him. He often came back empty-handed,but this time it was clear from the behaviourof the female,who conrinued to lick greedily at his teeth, that he had certainly eaten and probably killed in the last hour. The significance was not lost on the two men watching from the tamarind. The wolf might have madea kill and then beeninterrupted while eating or even driven off by a rival predatorl but there was another possibility - that he had cached it somewhereand wanted his mate to lave the whelps and return with him to feed on the qrcass. If this was the case, however, and thet moment which the Santals had been waiting for so patiendy had at last arrived, the wolves showed no signs of breaking their routine of the past few weets. When the reunion was over, they went their separate ways, the female back inside the den and her mate into the jungle, leaving the tree-bound onlookers to their disappointment. A second visit from the wolf seemed unlikely but they could not risk abandoning their post before morning; while one of them slept, the other continued to keep watch. 42
+3
If the moon had been less bright, he would probably have seen nothing. As it was he could not be certain, but halfasleep, staring oyer at the den and beyond it into the trees he thought he saw a shadow, a spirit rather' some bongaof the tamarind grove, rise out of the ground and melt back between the grey stanchions of the forest. Only after it vanished did he realize that the apparition had manifested itself in the very spot where the second entrance to the den had its opening. With the realization that they had almost been outwiffed, fear evaporated and he woke his companion. They waited for a long time before climbing down, and they waited again at the foot of the tree. But there was no sign of movement. They unhooked their kudis and advanced quickly towards the den. One of them slipped on the steep bank of the nallah dislodgng a little earth. Nothing stirred, no reaction to the noise, no wolf leaping from the den mouth or charging out of the undergrowth to challenge them. They approached the entrance and with a few blows of a kudi. cut back the plum-bush. Inside they could hear the whimpering of the pups. They beganto dig out the opening.Luckily the passagewas not more than a few feet long and the earth soft and loose. Cautiously at first, for they had heard of she-wolvesremaining in the den with their cubs to the very last, one of them crawled into the widened mouth and without difficulty retrieved the six struggling pups, handing them one by one to his companion,who placed them in the deep basket they had brought along for tJre purpose.As soon as they had securedtheir prize, the two men hurriedly kicked sorneof the earth back into the gaping den mouth in a token attempt to cover their traces and ran from the clearing, and all tlle way back to the village, constantlylooking over their shouldersto seeifthey were being followed. They knew well enough that a wolf would only atack under extreme and direct provocation, but they were aware, too, that any animal suddenly deprived of its young may behave eratically. It was not until they
had reachedthe palisadesofthe village that they felt safe enough to be a little elated by their success.In two days' time, they would take the cubs to the local 'hat', the weekly fair and market at the village of Kuarh, some twoand-a-half miles north of Denganalia, where if they were lucky enoughto avoid competition from leopard,bear and even tiger cubs, they would sell them for a few annas apiece. It was not much of a return for all the long cold nights spent sitting up and watching from the tamarind tree, but Santalsfrom a smalljungle hamlet,finding money hard to comeby at the bestof times, could be happy with liule in these lean war years. They celebrated with a jug ofrice beer. Later that night they heard prolonged howling from the jungle and knew that the wolves had finally discovered their loss. They checked again that their huts and the compound,in which they had put the whelps,were secure. They had heard a story about a Sanal from another villap who had stolen the cubs of a tigress in similar circurF stances,only she had come to the housein the middle of the night and taken her cubs back,leavingthe man's wife, who had woken and cried out in alarm, so badly mauled that she died from her wounds. Sometime just before dawn the howling sounded very close. It came in short bouts, every half-an-hour or so until first light, when it ceasedand was not heard ag:ainuntil the following evening. For severalnights, even after the cubs had been taken and sold for a poor price in the market, tlre wolves came and howled outside the village. During the day sometimesthey were heard by women gathering roots and herbs in the forest and occasionally they were seen. On the first day, somewherenot far from the village, a party of women were followed and pesteredby the shewolf. The animal behaved in a strange, distressedtnanner, rolling over as if in pain and dragging her belly along the ground, emitting short plaintive cries. At one point she came so close that the women had to drive her away by throwing sticks at her.
41
They noticedthat whereshehadbeenlying the earthwas madewet by milk streakedwith blood. After a few days the wolves movedaway to another part of the jungle and, as far as anyonecan remember, werenot se€nor heardagainnearDenganalia.Someyears Iater when the village was hauntedby anothershe-wolf in rather different circurnstances, non€of thosewho had seen the mother with the gorged and laceratedteats roamingthe forest in searchof her cubs, would be able to say whetheror not it wasthe sameanimal.Indeed,it would not occurto them to makea comparisonbetweena wolf and a creatureof the spirit world.
45
It happenedin 1916,during the long surnmermonths of April andMay whenthe Santals'tinypaddyfieldsthat skirt the edgeofthe iunglearebakediron-hardby the sun andthemenworkall dayin the heatanddustbreakingup the earth, to makeit ready for sowingby the first rain. The previousyear in Mayurbhanj tle harvesthad been disappointingand rice stocks, intended to last until October,werealreadyrunning low: if the rains camelate they couldexpectseverehardshipby the followingseason. But though rice is the staple food, unlike his Hinilu neighbourswhosediet is restrictedby religion,the Santal mayeat almostanythingand cansurvivewhereevena rat will sarve.All the produceof the foresgthe roots,berrieg leavesand grasses, the meatof tiger, bearand porcupine, of crows,snakesind frogs,evenantsand termites,maybe a sourceof nourishmentto hin5 and whereno fresh meat is availablehe will eat carrion. While they waitedfor the monsoonto break,searching th" rky eacheveningfor the sign ofa barredcloud in the west,propitiatingthe tribal deitiesasthe daysgrewsteadily fierier and the food supply dwindled,the Santalsturned as they did every year at this time to their traditional occupationofhunting. Towardsthe endofthe hot weather conditionswereparticularlyfavourable,for as the jungle
dried out and the undergrowth withered away the animals, deprived of cover, and being forced to ffavel further for food and water, were more often exposed to danger and generally in a weaker condition than at other times of the year. The Santals,who as a rule hunted individually or in small village groups, took advantage of their plight and organized cooperative hunting expeditions with neighbouring villagesand tribes rhat often led to slaughteron a massive scale. A regular fixture in the tribal yslr, these expeditions involving the deployment of hundreds of men over vast tracts of iungle took place under the auspicesof the state of Mayurbhanj, chiefly so that the Maharajah could have some control over the massacreof game and take part in the sport if he wished, but also becauseany large assembly of armed men presented, if not a threat to Government, at least the potential for some kind of disturbance. In the zummer of tgr6, as the preparations for Deshua Sendra" the rnost important tribal hunt of the year, got under way, that potential was realized. The essential information about the hunt - when it would take place - had been carried through the jungle by the traditional means of a knotted string, known as Gira gath, btought by messengerfrom village to village and untied one knot at a time by eachhead-man,who always left the correct number of days in knots that remained until the date of the hunt before passingit on. Details that demanded less accuracy, such as the number of men required from each village, where the hunters should congregateat the start, and meet up againat the end, were Ieft to the messengers.On this occasionthey were also responsiblefor carrying some additional information that turned out to be the causeofall the trouble. How tle rumour got started is not knovrrn,but it was based on the news that the Santals, among other tribes, were soon to be recruited as coolies for the war effort. Although Malurbhanj was a feudatory state and not part of British India, the Maharajah, Puri Chandra Bhani Deo,
+7
was a keen supporter of the Rai, and having himself servedwith distinction in the war, saw no reasonwhy the aboriginalsshould not help saveIndia from the Germans. The local sardars, or landowners, had been instructed to inform the headmen of the villages under their iurisdio' tion ofthe Maharajah'swishesand many had alreadydone so; but the messagesomehowbecamedistorted and by the time of Deshua Sendra a serious misunderstandinghad arisen. Convinced that they had been told a lie about their recruitment as coolies, the Santals had come to believe that the war was a greatvillage somewherefar away which required each day coundesshuman sacrificesin order to prosper, and that in reality they were to be sent to this villageto provide the blood for which it thirsted. Naturally they were not disposed to go, and as this simple but horifying picture of their fate accompaniedthe knotted string announcingthe day ofthe hunt through the iungle, a mood of revolt spread among the Santals.And as the warm nights leading up to Deshua Sendrafilled with the sound of drumming carried for miles on the still air, old and perennial grievances, chiefly against the rapacity of Hindu moneylenders and landlords, were recalled and the dancesand songsof the 1856 Santal Rebellion were performed again with rebom enthusiasm. On the appointed day the hunt took place as planned. After the customary sacrifi.ceof a red fowl to the gods of the locality, columns of men arrangedon four sides of a vast squareofjungle, marshalledall at once by the deep reverberative notes of the sakpa horns, turned in to face each other and in long wavering lines began to converge on the centre.Behind the hunters and their dogscamethe musicians, who set up a regular cacophony orr na,gr& drums, bells and cymbals, commenting on the progress of the hunt with changing rhythms that announcedthe movementsof the animalsas they ran before them or sometimes broke back through the lines. It was during these
initial stagesof the hunt, still early in the mo'rning, that in the north-eastern section ofthe iungle area covered by the people of Denganalia, Topera, Bhadua Sol and oths near-by villages, a couple of wolves were said to have outwitted the hunters by lyt"g low until they had passed by and were then seenb'reakingcover and running off'free and laughing'. They were remembered - though there may have been some confusion here with what occurred later - becauseone of the hunters claimed that the wolves had been accompanied by another animal; he had only caught a glimpse of it and could not give it a name, but what he had seen fq some reason the man was unwilling to describe. After the hunt was over the tribes teturned to their villages to divide up the spoils. Later the women had brought the men rice beer and then left them to feast,drink, alk, sing and dance their way through the night; but discussion soon furned from hunting to politics and the mood ofgaiety reverted to one ofapprehension over the cruel edict that would send them away as sacrificesto the 'great village of blood'. The following day, instead of dispersingand returning to their villagesin the usual way, several bands of tribesmen in the south of the district, still inflamed with drink and full of terror at the prospect of their imminent destruction, went on a rampagethrougfi one of the more prosperous Hindu villages, where an extortionate money-lender was known to live, causing considerableuproar and some bloodshed.The police and local militia were promptly called out, which resulted in t m€l6e;though the Mayurbhanj government,anxiousnot to provoke the Santals into open rebellion as in Bengal during the 1856 uprising, withdrew its forces as soon as the leaders agreed to alk. After the grievancesof the Santalshad beenaired and their fearsof being sent off to war put to rest, the situation defuseditself and everyone went home. There were no reprisals but the Deshua Sendra was banned for the following year and in future it
48
49
was made illegal to pass the knoned string as a means of calling together the tribes for any purposewhatever. In Denganaliaand other villagesof the Muruda districg the troubles had beenconained evenbeforethe hunt began, chiefly by the action of the local sardar, Gopabandha Pattanaik,who, being forewarned of the Santals' despair over the recruitment question, had visited on horseback as many as possible of the ninety or so villages in the locality for which he and his brother wtre responsible,to explain the misunderstanding. But those not involved in the rioting had nonethelessmadecommon causerrith their fellows in the south, for the bond of kinship among Santals is strong, and for several weeks a mood of dissent and resentment of Hindu authority that was still tinged with fear lingered on in the hearts of many. Suggestibleat the best of times, the people of Denganalia'were perhapsmore than usually predisposedtowards the zupernatural after the Deshua Sendra disturbances. When a small hunting party returning to the village through the forestone eveningat sundownreportedhaving seen a small creature that was neither animal nor human darting about between the sal trees until it vanished as if swallowed by the shadows, the village elders at once declared that this was a malevolent spirit, a bongaor bhut, cometo haunt them and to succeedwherethe Hindus had failed in carrying them offto the village of blood. A second apparition in another part of the iungle some days later did nothing to dispel their fear and when it was revealed that on both occasionsthe'bhut' had been accompanied by a female wolf, although it was agreed that this must be the same animal sighted during the hunt, the wolf, too, was given supernatural stafus and from then on there could be no connectionmade betweenthis wolf-spirit and any living animal, No attempt was made thereforeto hunt or drive offthe creaturesand the placesin the fungle where they had beenseenwere given a wide berth. The villagers placed themselvesin the hands.of their naekeor pnest
who led them to invoke the aid of Maran Buru, the of blood presidingDeity of the Santals,to makesacrifices junction north two roads of the at the sacredgroveat the for the boundary beer ofthe village,to leaveofferingsofrice deitiesand pray to the godsof the forest to protect and deliver them from the bhuts, and confound their evil intentions. In different circumstancesthe villagers might have appealedto their localsarilar,Mr Pattanaik,for temporal help; but in the aftermathof the DeshuaSendradAbdcle, there waslittle wish for contactwith an authority which many still believedwantedto sendthem to the war. At that time the Santalsbelievedthe malevolentpowerof the demons,which none could doubt who had been unfortunateenoughto set eyeson them, wasso strongthat it could only be counteredby magic. The 'demons'continuedto be seenaboutthe forestby the peopleof Denganaliauntil the monsoonbroke,when the dreadfulapparitionssuddenlyceased.With the release oftensionbroughtby the rain, asthe iunglequicklygrew greenand luxuriant againand the paddysprangup in the by evil spirits soddenfields,carnerelief from persecution and the threat of war alike. They were left in peace,the magicof the naebewasheld to havebeeneffectiveand for the time beingat leastthe episodewasforgotten.
ChapterThree
By late September of rgzo the same grey sullen mass of cloud that gathers morning and evening rvith monotonous regularityto lower over,then inundate,the Bengalcountryside for more than three months of eachyear, had at last begun to break up, giving way with intermittent downpours to ever longer periodsofclear sky. The rains, never before time, were coming to an end, and it was with a feeling of release,shared by anyone who had spent the long sticky summer coopedup in someoffice in the plains, that the ReverendSingh, accompaniedby Karan Hansda, his driver and cook, and Daniel, his bearer, leaving orphanageand church behind them, set out from Midnapore by bullock cart to visit the Santal villages in the cool forestsofthe south. Although he prided himself on his stamina and fortitude 'the Lord's Vineyerd', the when it came to working in padre generally preferred to wait a month or so for the cold weather to come in before starting of on tour, as in September many roads would still be impassable, most rivers dangerousor difficult to cross, and the jungle, fresh and appealing in the mind's eye, would be a dank unhealthy wilderness. A few weeks before, however, he had received a mess:rgefrom Bhagobhat Khatua of Salgaria" still active as his chief reader and catechist among the Santals, asking that he should ma"kean earlier start to his tour than usual. Whatever reason was given it evidently found favour with Singh, for although he stipulated that he had to be back in Kharagpur before the end of the month, he turned up as promised on zo September in
Chainsole, a sizeablevillage lying some twenty-eight miles south-westof Midnapore on the north bank of the Sub arnarekha.At that time Chainsole was one of the main Christian centres in the district, even boasting a small wattle and daub church which the Reverend Singh had built with the help ofthe local peopleseveralyearsearlier. The church was the presentfocus of a long-standingrow betweenthe S.P.G. and American Baptists, who over the last hallcentury had poachedeach other's convertswith such zeal that mutual enmity had slowly communicated itself to their bewilderedneophyes. It was most likely in this connection, to settle some dispute, that Singh was summoned there by his Catechist. Yet it can only have been a pretext, for Bhagobhathad a more pressingreason for calling him, which had nothing to do with mission rivalry or, for that matter, with Chainsole; but he had calculated, sensibly enough, that the Reverend Singh would not havecome out to the mffissil in Septemberon the strength of a ghost story. Whether or not he revealedthe true purpose of their iourney before leaving Grainsole, Bhagobhatmanagedto persuadethe Reverend Singh to extend the limited tour they had originally planned. Instead of remaining in the Chainsole area, where villages were accessibleand the countryside relatively tame, they set off for the wilds of Nayagaram,taking with them Janu Tudu, one of Singh's Chainsoleconverts (hotly disputed by the Baptists) to be their pilot in the jungle. They travelled south atong the eastbank ofthe Subarnarekhauntil they reachedDhashragat where, after the usual haggling with the ferrymen, who always had to be reassuredthat the bullock cars would not sink the ferry, 4nd the usual wait for the wind to turn in their favour, tley were punted acrossthe great brown sweep of water, carried and spun around by the current like the frail skiffs that plied the river night and day for the abundanceof fuh brought by the rains. They finally landed several hundred yards down-stream, a mile
or so from the village of Nayagaram. From thete they continued south along kuftha toads, rough tracks, thick with mud, barely negotiable even by bullock cart, as far as Salgaria, where they spent the night in Bhagobhat's home. The next day, after the Reverend Singh had celebrated beforetle assembledvillage, the party set offagain, and heading due west crossed the four miles of open savanna and khas jungle that lay between Salgaria and the Mayurbhani border. Half a mile on they came to their destination of Godamuri, one of three tiny hamlets set close together behind bamboo stockades and groves of tamarind, betel and palash trees on the edge of a wide expanseof sal forest. In Godamuri Bhagobhat had arrangedfor them to stay with a herdsmanof the Kora uibe called Chunarem, converted to Christianity by the Reverend Singh some years ago and since become, undet Bhagobhat's direction, one of their most reliable and stalwart'workers in the field'. It was Chunarem' nonetheless, who had extracteda promise from Bhagobhatto do all in his power to bring the padre out to Godamuri as soon as possible to save his people from immediate desuuction by evil spirits. Late that evening when the Reverend Singh and his party had prayed and eatenand were settling down for the night under the lean-to cowshedin Chunarem'scourtyard, their host and his wife came to them in'evident distress and, after the customaryprevarication,told the padreabout the bhuts living in the iungle close by the village. Chunarem, who seemedvery much afraid, claimed to have seen these 'ghosts' himself at a place they frequented in the heart ofthe forest about sevenmiles from there, describing them as manush'bagha(man-beasts) with a human form and the head of a devilish animal. At first he could say little elseabout them that wascoherentotherthan to begthe priest to come with him and exorcisethe spot beforedeath overtook them all. Prompted by the Reverend Singh's questions, however, he revealed that the nanush-bagha 53
had been seen of and on over some period of time at a greatdistancefrom Godamuriin the thickestpart of the jungle; but becausethey were frr awty, apart from offeringpujasto ward offevil wheneverthey happenedto seethem,peopleignoredthe ghostsandforgotaboutthem. Then threeor four monthsago,just beforethe beginning of the rains,the manush-baghahad begunto appeiumore frequentln usually at dusk and sometimesin the early morning, much closerto the village.Although pujas and sacrificeswereofferedto drive them awayand Chunarem and other Christianshad prayedto theirGod, the ghosts had remainedin the vicinity and the peoplehad bicome so frightenedthat they wantedto abandontheir homes. The ReverendSinghhadbeenpreparedfor Chunarem's storyby BhagobhatKhatua,whohadusedit to explainthe stateofabiectterrorin whichtheyhadfoundthepeopleof Godamurion arrival.Although interestedby Bhagobhat's claimthat he hadheardthe sameghoststoryfrom reliable sourcesin othervillages,Singhfound it difficultto overcomehis initial repugnanceat what wasclearlya caseof reversionto primitive superstition.He had reprimanded Bhagobhatfor his creduliryand togetherin prayerthar eveningtheyhadaskedthatthepeopleofGodamurishould be 'raised from the slimy depthsof heathenism,and brought from darknessinto the glorious light of our BlessedLord'.l Nonetheless, as Chunaremended his story with a further desperateplea for help in which he was ioined by his wife, the ReverendSingh, finding it impossibleto doubt their sincerity,and by now not a little curious,agreedto go with him to the iungle the next day and seethe ghostsfor himself. Travelling mostlyon - The expeditionwasnot a success. foot, sincethe iungle wastoo thick for the bullock carts to pass,they venturedsomesix or sevenmiles into the interiorto the south-east of Godamuriin the directionof AmardaRoad.furiving a little beforedusk at the place supposedlyhauntedby the ghosts,identified by a very 54
large termite mound, they waited in vein for something to happen as the gloom ofthe forest gatheredaround them. 'We At nightfall the Reverend Singh called off the vigil. had failed to see any sign of it,' he wrote in his iournal 'I under the entry for z4 September. thought it was all false and did not care much.'2 But if he was feeling a litde foolish for allowing himself to become involved in the ghost hunt, he consideredthat he had at least done his duty by Chunarern. The herdsman, however, was far from being reassured and although easily prevailed upon to lead the disgruntled and rather nervous party away from the haunted spot, he insisted that they should come back and try again the next day. The Reverend Singh refused him on the grounds that he had to return to Kharagpur and with that the party withdrew to the near-by village of Denganalia. While they were setting up camp the padre received a visit from the village rnondhal or headman, Mr Babusahu, and others known to him from earlier missionary visits, who again told him of the ghostsin the forest that were terrorizing the neighbourhoodand beggedhim to rid the -Ihe mondholclaimed that he had reported place of them. the matter to the local sardar, Mr Pattanaik, and requested his help several times, but that nothing had come of it and that now they had given up all hope. Impressed, despite himself, by the powerful influence which the 'ghosts' seemed to exert on the imaginations of the villagers, the Reverend Singh reluctantly agreed to change his mind and to pay a secondvisit at dawn to the haunted part of the forest. In talking to the mondhal he had also learnt two interesting pieces of information that had not emerged from the garbled accounts of Chunarem and others. The manash-bagha,it seemed, for the last four months had actually been living inside the enormous ant mound, coming out and going in by the large holes in its basel and whenever they were sighted, more often than not it was in the company of wolves, albeit wolf'spirits.
The second expedition turned out to be as abortive as the first. They watched concealedbehind trees for more than an hour, but saw no sign ofwolf, ghost or any kind of activity about the ant mound. The Reverend Singh, however, had begun to entertain the possibility that the manush-baghamight not after all be a figment of the primitive imaginationbut somerare speciesofwild animal never seen before in those parts, and therefore like anything strange and new regarded by the aboriginals as enchanted.His curiosity as a hunter arousedand anticipating perhapsthe addition ofa unique trophy ro the rarher dim collection on his study wall, before leaving the place he ordered the villagers to build a mach.anor shooting platform in a large mohua tree, its trunk noticeably scarred with the clawmarks of bears, that stood about fifty yards away from the ant mound and commandeda fairly good view of the surrounding jungle. He advised them how to construct the machanand where to position it in the tr€€ at a height of about fifteen feet above the ground, and warnedagainstcutting the wood for the platform in the vicinity of the ant mound or making any disturbancewhich might frighten the animals or'ghosts', as he was still obliged to call them, away from their lair. Although they were'afraidto remain there without him the Santalsagreedto do what the padre askedon the understanding that he would return as soon as possibleand kill the ghoss. He gavethem his word as a shikari. Later that morning of z5 Septemberthe ReverendSingh caught the train to Kharagpur at the Flag railway station in AmardaRoad somesix miles south of Denganalia,taking with him his bearerDaniel, but leavingbehind Bhagobhat, Chunarem and the others to look after the bullock carts and equipment which were still lying up in Godamuri. Since he was unable to give a firm date of return, he arrangedwith one of them to come back and wait for him there in a week's time. fu it turned out he stayed away rather long€r than anticipated,kept at home for more than
56
.
57
ten days by parish duties and other cornmiunents. During that time he said nothing of his adventures in the jungle to his family or friends in Midnapore, but took into his confidence two Anglelndians, who worked as fitters and guards on the railways in Kharagpur and who in the past had sometimesaccompanied him on his missionary tours for rough shooting. Their nameswere Henry Richards and Peter Rose. Of the two he best knew Richards, a tall lightskinned man with a limp, who had lived in Midnapore for sometime and been active in church affairs; but he prob ably first mentioned the story of the ghosts to Peter Rosg since it was to maffy his son, Alexander Rose, that he had cut short his tour in Mayurbhanj. The wedding took place on z8 Septemberat All Saints Church in Kharagpur, and at the reception afterwardsin the South Insitute the Reverend Singh was unable to resist telling his old hunting companion of his experiencesin the forests of Denganalia which, he claimed, had nearly prevented him from attending the ceremony. Exaggerating a little no doubt, he managed to convince him, as he had by now convinced himself, that there redly might be some strange animal living in the haunted ant mound' and suggestedthat it would be an interesting iaunt ifall three of them were to go back there and try and bring it to bag. Rose and Richards needed in any caselittle persuading. Having arranged to take a fortnight's leave from the B.N.R., for they intended to get some shootingeven if the other matter came to nothing, they met the Reverend Singh in Kharagpur a week later, equipped with rifles, camp kit and Mr Rose'sfield glass,and on the eveningof 5 October the three men set offtogether for the Mayutbhani border. They reached Godamuri on Friday, after meeting up with Bhagobhat and the bullock carts en route, and stayedthat night in Chunarem'syard. The next morning they went into Denganalia forest to take a look at the home of the ghosts and check that the Santals had built the
machenaccording to instructions. The white-ant mound, which they examinedthrough the field glass,taking care not to go too near, stood on the edgeofa clearinga short distance from the by-path, which the villagers had used until recendy on theh way to collect roots and leavesand wood from different parts ofthe jungle, but had abandoned becauseof the ghosts. Between ten and twelve feet high (roughly rwice average size although termite mounds of twenty feet in those parts were not unheard of), shaped something like a menhir, it reminded the Reverend Singh of a Hindu temple - perhapsthe Juggernathin Midnapore with its tall fluted roof in rust-colouredstone corresponding to the red earth and bevelled surfacesof the termite structure. Evidently it had long since been abandoned by the termiteselsethe dome,well-worn by wind and rain, and the cavitiesaround the baseof the mound would have been kept repaired; but it seemedpossible that larger animals had since taken up residence,as they commonly did, for some of the holesappearedto have been widened and rubbed smooth and looked like tunnels leading to the centreof the mound. There was no telling, however,which of the holes might be the main entrance; the machanhad beenbuilt to overlookthe largestand the best worn. After inspectingthe platform, sited so that if there was a moon its light would fall from behind the mohua tree on to the ant mound, the Reverend Singh declared everything in order and he and his companionsleft the place as quietly as they had come. The stage was set. They returned at about 4.3o in the afternoon and mountedthe platform by the rope ladder which hung down on the blind side of the mohua. The last man aboard pulled it up after him. Besidesthe padre and the AngloIndians there was Bhagobhat,Chunaremand perhapsone other on the machan.It gave them little room for manoeuvre. The three men with guns sat to the front enjoyrng an unrestrictedview, while the others had to perch as best they could on the spreading branchesof the tree. The two
58
59
railway men caffied conventional rifles, the Reverend Singh his favourite zo-bore Westley Richards, which fired shot and ball over and under, but the padre soon handed his piece over to Bhagobhat and concentrated on using the field glass.They settled down to wait, trying to keep silent and still under constant attack from mosquitoes, flying beetles,white jute moths and a myriad of insect speciesattracted by the strong scent of the mohua - 'the tree of life', as the Santalscall it, feeder of men, animals and birds, and supporter of parasitic plants like hoya orchids and climbing ferns, but also a frequent host to snakes. Without making any movement they checked the near foliage while it was still light for any unwelcome guest, looking out particularly for the beautiful but deadly emerald green tree snake: so thin it could easily be mistaken for a twig, its victirns were mostly bitten in the face while walking under trees, having failed to spot its tiny lozenge-shapedhead poised motionless among the leaves. From the point of view of comfort the rnohua was hardly the most suitableplacefor the machan,butthat wasnot the important consideration; the men were all hardened to jungle life and as they waited and watchedand listenedfor any sign of movement from the ant mound, minor irritations were forgotten in the unreasonableexpectationthat something was bound to happen. The constant whirr of cicadas and other minute instruments in the familiar backgroundmusic of the iungle, momentarily silencedby their arrival, had returned soon after they had installed themselves, at first to deafen them and then to fall away in their ears to a low generalized hum, almost a silence from which the least irregular noise stood out sharply defined. The soft whistling of green fruit-pigeon and steady whooping of langurs from a near-by wild fig. tree would suddenly give way to the ratde of a porcupine's ail quills, a warning sign eagerly interpreted by the watcherson the platform; or a flock of jungle fowl scratchiog op dead leaves in the lantana would begin to sound
like the rnovement of larger game and somebody's grip would tighten on the stock of a rifle, grown clammy in the cool, humid atmosphere.But nothing came. By half past five the light was fading fast; they felt the evening wind on their facesand heard it in the tops of the sal; it was the time when the animals begin to appear. On the rnachanthe tension rose. Scanning through the field glass the Reverend Singh followed the creeping shapes of pea-fowl through the long grass beyond the mound, here and there catching sight of a green-crested, periscopic head, alertly raised. A litde further on he picked up a large grey shape moving slowly between the trees. He lost it in his excitement but caught up with it a moment later only to recognizethe shuffling gait and cumbersomestanceof a sloth bear climbing on to its hind legs to lick the ant-soil sticking ro the trunk of a sal. Although it was a long way out of range he hoped his companionswould not seeit in casethey were tempted to take a shot. They were sound enough men, but in the rather iumpy atmosphere on board the machan it was impossibleto have absoluteconfidencein anyone holding a gun. It was almost dark. In the distancethe chuckling call ofa night-iar soundedlike a stonebouncing away over ice. The Reverend Singh had his glasstrained on the base of the white ant mound. The eerie form of a large, evilsmelling fruit bat sailed close by the platform on noiseless leatherywings,starding its occupants.Just then Singh saw a wolf emergefrom one of the holes and run off into the undergrowth. It was followed in quick zuccession by a secondwolf and a thfud with two cubs all coming one afrer the other, as the size of the hole would not allow two to passtogether.Behind them he saw somethingelse. 'Close after the cubsr' he noted in his iournal, camethe'ghost'- a hideouslooking being, hand, foot and body like a humanbeing; but the headwasa big ball of somo tling coveringthe shouldersand the upper portion ofthe bust leaving only a sharp contour of the face visible. Close at is
60
heelsthere cameanotherar{ul cteatureeractly like the first' but smallerin size.Their eyeswerebright and piercing,unlike humaneyes... The first ghost appearedon the ground up to its bust' and placingits elbowson the edgeofthe hole, lookedthis side and tlrat sideand jumpedout. It lookedall round tle placefrom the mouth of tlre hole before it leapedout to follow the cubs. It wasfollowedby anothertiny ghostof tlre samekind, behaving in the sameInanner.Both of them ran on all fours.3
6r
As soon as they saw therq Rose and Richards raised their guns to shoot. The Reverend Singh, engrossed in watching, was only just quick enough to hold up their barrelsl offering them the field glass, he said that he felt sure that the ghosts were in fact human children' When they had all had a look through the glass,although 'ghosts' did visibility was by now extremely poor and the not stay long before following the wolves into the iungle, everyone on the machan agreed that the creatures most probably were human - except for Chunarem, who could not be persuaded that they were anything but manushbagha and was resentful that no one had tried to shoot them. The Reverend Singh could see that the man was still afraid and did not press the matter. After descending from the mochan,the party rejoined the bullock carts, which were waiting on the nearestcart track a mile or so away, and returned to Godamuri by late evening. The next day, ro October, they saw the ghosts again from the machan.This time there could be no doubt about their human origin, but Chunarem, zupported by the people of Godamuri and Denganalia, continued to deny the truth. When the Reverend Singh askedthem if they would provide some men to help him dig out the white ant mound and rescue the children, they refused flatly. 'You are only here for a day,' Chunaremtold Singh, as he 'but we have to live here. When you go later recalled, will play havoc with us and away, these manush-bagha.r would kill us all.'a Retreatingstubbornly into the darkness
ofsuperstition they left no room for discussionand Singh, who by now had thought of another plan, let the subject drop. Before leaving the areahe paid a visit to the near-by village of Nalgoia,wherethe local sardarrMr Gopabandha Pattanaik, received him with all the courtesy of a Hindu gentlemanon the thatched verandaofhis houseand over Iight refreshment lisrened attentively while the padre recounted the extraordinary events of the past night. After hearing his story Mr Pattanaikmade profuseapologiesfor refusing to take the matter seriously until now and politely regretted the unwillingness to cooperate shown by the local people. Ofering to help in any way he could (although privately he may have retained some doubts), he suggested that the most sensiblecourseof action would be to send word to Dibakar Bhanj Deo, the Maharajah's hunting omcer,to comeover fromBaripada and organizea hunting party and, with the sanction of the Maharajah, to caprure the children. Having alreadyvetoedthe suggestionof Rose and Richards, that they should shoot the wolves from the machanand try to recover the children themselves,on the grounds that it was too risky - the children seemedto be able to run extremely quickly and if they w€re not killed by a stray bullet would certainly disappearinto the forest before they could catch them - the ReverendSingh felt at first somewhatdoubtful about the idea of a hunting parry. He was, however, personally acquainted with both the Maharaiah and Dibakar, as he explained grandly to Mr Pattanaik; his brother-in-law, Iswari Singh, who had married his sister, Bimolla, worled in the office of the Dewan of Mayurbhanj; and, having shot with Dibakar on several occasions,he believed that he could be persuaded to cooperate in his plan. Insisting that the only safe way to capture the children would be to surround the termite mound and dig out the den, he revealed his intention of going to a distant village, where the people had never heard of the nanuslt-bagha,and hiring some men ro come brck with him to do the iob. He agreedto Mr pattanaik's 6z
fu
sending for Dibakar on condition that, if he came, he should await his return b€fore attempting any rescue operation. The ReverendSingh left Godamuri on rr October and was away for six days. Accompanied by Roseand Richards he travelled by bullock caft, crossing the border into Bengal and following the road north for some twenty miles or so tlrough the forest of Tapoban until they came to the village of ?atherdogra, not far from the old Hindu temple of Tapoban. It is not clear why Singh had to go so far to get help or why the iourney took as long as six days. He may have put in some missionary work on the way, or Rose and Richards may have insisted on doing a little shooting; or it may have been that Patherdograwas the nearestvillage where he could be certain of getting help, since there was a Christian settlement there. The villagers mostly belongedto the Lodha tribe, a criminal castewho were much feared in the districq which was also perhaps an advantagein that they would not be easily influenced by the Santals of Denganalia. Singh often stopped by Patherdogra on his way to or from the villages in the south to visit the ReverendKenan, who wasstationedthere and, although an American Baptist, a friend of his. Whether Father Kenan was at home on this occasionSingh does not say; if he was, he may not have told him about rescuing the children in case the story got back to the 'Here I Lodhas, who as yet knew nothing of the ghosts. 'to do a spoke to the villagers,' Singh wrote, iob for us in jungle like temple door a by cutting for us an opening the promised them their I in one of the white ant mounds. They agreed and for work, the daily wagesand tip money the haunt for following, straight we started back the day with regard None of us told anything wolves. them of the to the ghostsliving therein.'s When they reached Nalgofa the Reverend Singh found Dibakar Bhanj Deo, the Maharajah'shunting officer, and Bhaduri Singh, a well-known shikari from Baripada,
waiting for him at the house of Mr Pananaik. They had received the king's firll permission to carry out the rescue. Dibakar had alsomanagedto persuadethe men of Denganalia, Kosdia and one or two other villages to take part in the hunt on the understanding that they would not have to go near the haunted lair. Everything was ready. Irn mediately upon the padre's return word was sent round to the villages. By eight o'clock the following morning, Sunday 17 October, the Santalshad taken up their positions in the jungle, in a rough circle drawn at a radius of about a mile from the white-ant mound waiting for the signal. Lasa Marandi of Denganalia,then a young man of, sixteen,held a place in the line alongsidehis father, Gita Marandi, and Motra Maii. He remembershow everyone felt afraid. 'Some of the older men were sayingthey would ratler stand unarmed against the charge of a tiger than come face to facewith the ghosts,But at the sound of the sahwahorns they raised a shout and we all began to walk towards the cave of the ghosts.It wasa still beatand our drums were silent. Many of us believedwe wete going to our destructionbut we also felt sure that Dibakar and the others would succeedin killing the ghostswith their guns and rid the place of them once and for all.'6 On board the nachon Dibakar was less confident. Nobody knew for cerain whether the wolves and children were inside tJremoundl if they were near by in the forest, it was hoped they would run before the beatersand take refuge in the den, but should they chooseto double back he was doubtful that the Santal line would hold. On the ground beneath the mohua tree the Reverend Singh waited with the hired diggers, ready to supervise the rescuewhen the time came.He had told his friends on the rnachan,Dibakar, Bhaduri Singh, Richards and Rose, not to fire on the wolvesor any other animalsunlesshuman life was in danger and at all coststo avoid risking the lives of the children. If possiblehe wantedto capturethe wolves as well as the children alive.
64
65
There was no sign of movement from the termite mound. As the Santals closed in only small game, a few frightened hares and a bandicoot got up before them and ran to and fro acrossthe clearing.Nobody paid any attention. The line of beatersdrew to a halt about a hundred yards out from the mound. They stood in silence, iust visible from the machan, their gamchas showing white between the trees and here and there a spearheador sword catchinga ray of sunlight. Dibakar signalledthem forward but nothing would induce the Santalsto come closer. The Reverend Singh now stepped forward at the head of the little band of Lodhas and advancedwarily on the termite mound. The Lodhas carried kodalis for digging' but many were also armed with bows and arrows: although they still knew nothing ofthe ghoststhey had been warned that there might be wolves inside the mound, but instructed not to kill them unlessthey had to. While half of them beganto hack away at the hard brittle surfaceof the abandoned termitary, the others kept guard. The Reverend Singh stood back a little to watch. Almost as soon as the men began digging two wolves came out round the far side of the mound and ran off towards the beaters. As Dibakar had expected,the line broke at once and the animals escaped.Then a third wolf appeared,a female, which Singh took to be the mother wolf, for instead of running offlike the othersshemadefor the Lodha diggers, scattering them to all sides before diving back into the hole. She came out again and raced round, growling furiously and pawing the ground. Lowering her head with bared teeth and ears flattened against her neck, her tail whipping threateningly from side to side, she refused to leave the spot. The wolf made a second charge at ttre diggers, only this time the bowmen were standing by at close rangel before the Reverend Singh could stop them they loosed off their arrolvs and pierced her through, killing her instantly. In the circumstancesit seemsdoubtful if the animal could have been captured unharmed, at
least without iniury to the diggers, but Singh blamed himself for what happened. After the event he claimed somewhat dubiously that he was so enraptured by the mother wolf's brave defence of her young (who were still inside the mound) that he became 'dumb and inert'and did nothing. Although aware of the particular inteiest in preservingthe life of the animal, he had failed understandably enough to realize just how important it would turn out to be. In the meantime the rescueof the children was his only concern. He ordered the men to lay down their w€apons and return to work, Iending a hand himself at diggi"g out the ant mouud, still unsure of what they would find. 'After the mother wolf was killed,' Singh wrote, 'it was an easy iob. When the door was cut out, the whole temple fell all around, very forarnately leaving the central cave open to the sk5 without disturbing the hollow inside . . . The two cubs and the other two hideous beings were there in one corner, all four clutching togetherin a monkey-ball. It was really a task to separate them from one another. The ghosts were more ferocious than the cubs, making faces, showing teeth, making for us when too much disturbed, and running back to reform the monkey-ball.'7 By now Dibakar, Rose,Richards and the others from the machanhad joined them on the ground and everybodywas crowding round to see the ghosts, making ilggestions about how to securethem. One of the diggershad already been bitten on the hand and although the Lodhas appeared unafraid of the.creatures there was a certain reluctance to handle them. Amid general confusion the Reverend Singh remained firmly in control of the situation. He had the idea of using a make-shift net. 'I collectedfour big sheets from the men, called in that region gelop (the villager's winter wrapper), and threw one of the sheetson this ball ofchildren and cubs and separatedone from the other. In this manner we separatedall of them, each one tied up in a sheet,leaving only the head free.'8
ffi
67
Four stmggling, whimpering bundles were laid on the ground a little way off from the body of the she-wolf while Singh and the others inspected their former den. A large cavity set below ground level with as many as seven tunnels leading up to the surface, it was shaped like the bottom of a kettle. The inside walls were smooth and of the same red sand used by the termites throughout the stmcture, though evidently the wolves or some previous occupant had dug out or enlarged the cavity beneath the mound for their own use. The Reverend Singh, seeingthe interior of a wolf den for the first time, was surprised by 'The place was so neat that not even a how clean it was. piece of bone was visible anywhere, much less any evidence of their droppings and other uncleanliness. The cavehad a peculiar smell, peculiar to the wolves - that was all.'e Dibakar, who had more experiencein these matters' explained that wolves always voided their excretions outside the den and that when they were cubs the mother would lick up their faecesand urine until they were housetrained; but in the caseof the human children he could only venture a guess.It was not an important question, but like a thousand others that came to mind, many of which they had already discussed for long hours and would continue to dq so for years to come' it was unanswerable. They were looking at the only material evidence of the children's life among the wolves, an empty hollow that gave away no searets.In a few days even the smell would have disappeared.The other witness, perhaps the only one who could have provided them with some explanation,still jerked a little asthe Lodhas retrievedtheir valuable arrows from her carcass. The bravest among the Santal beaters approached circumspectly to examine the captured ghosts, poking at the white bundles with the buta of their bamboo spears' but retreating in alarm as soon as the matted balls of hair began to twist and turn about and they saw the bared teeth and rolling eye-whites of their former tormentors.
Some expressedzurprhe that the cxeature were so small and not half-beast as they had been led to expect, To others this was only natural since they were bhuts, the spirits ofchildren who had died before the initiation cere mony of.chatiar. It is through chatiar that a child becomes a member of Sanal society: without initiation the dead cannot achievethe full status ofa bongaryirit and therefore may not be offered sacrifices at the fltmily altars by their relations. For the Santals, who seethe afterworld in terms of relationships with their ancestors and descendants, becominga bhut, a spirit outcast condemnedto haunt the forests,an evil being that preys on mortal men, is the worst fate that could befall anyone. They regarded the two creatureswrapped in the gelopswith ineffable horror; it made no differencethat the spirits had evidently materialized and beenrenderedharmless;many would not go near them, while others wanted them destroyed. Ignoring these requests for retribution, the Reverend Singh paid offthe diggers,took chargeof the children and the wolf-cubs and returned to Denganalia,where he was promptly hailed by'the villagers as their deliverer. After taking obligatory refreshment with the headman, he managedto procure two bamboocages,to which he transfered his captives,paralysedwith fear and offering litde resistance,under the gazeof the equally frightened but curious crowd that had gatheredround the bullock carts. By the early afternoon the party was ready to move on to Amardavillage,sometwo miles distant, where Singh, Rose and Richards had arranged to stay the night at the dak bungalow. The chophidar, Mr Mahato, and his son, Ghambir, greetedthem enthusiastically,for the Reverend Singh wasa frequent and popular visitor. He usedAmarda as a centrefor his missionarytours in that areaand always stayedat the bungalow, a comfortable stone building, set upon a hillock overlooking an old Hindu temple on the edge of a large tank. Formetly a hunting lodge of the Maharaiah it was on a grander scale than most dak 68
69
bungalows and, in co{rtrast to the simplicity of Chunarem's cowshed and similar accommodation which they had had to put up with over the last ten days,the Reverend Singh and his friends found it a welcome change. Aftet giving thanksto God for His greatmercy in helping them to rescuethe children, the three men rested up for a while. Sitting out on the veranda in planters' chairs, carefully arrangedfor their occupants'enjoymentofthe view ofthe temple and banyan tree rrflected in the silver waters of the ank and the smoky-green line of jungle beyond, they drank sweet milky tea brought to them by Mr Mahato and Ghambir, whom Reverend Singh chaffed gently as he alwaysdid about becominga Christian, promising him a good maniage with a beautiful girl if he took the plunge. The chowkidarand his son, however, were more interested in hearing about the creatureson the back ofthe bullock cart, which had been left in the stables,closely guarded over by Karan Hansda and Janu Tudu. Already a small crowd had gathered at the bottom of the hill by the bungalow gate, anxious to see the mysterious ghosts the shikaris had brought out of the iungle. News of their capture had travelled before them, and here perhapsthe Reverend Singh had his first taste of the inconvenience and evendangerwhich publicity could cause.Only a select few, among them the village sardar, Kalandi Saranji, who had arrived rather more promptly than usual to pay his customary respects to the padre, were allowed to satisfy their curiosity. After they had gone an attempt was made under Singh's supervision to bathe the children. Their bodies were encrusted with dirt and mud, smelt strongly of the wolves' den and appearedfrom their scratchingto be full of fleas and other parasites.But the operation was not a success.The children reacted violently to being touched or to any contact with water. What dirt could be removed revealeda large number of small scars and scratchesall over their bodies, and on their elbows, knees and the
heels of their hands, heavy callouses- presumably from going on all fours. Although thin, they were otherwisein good condition and apart from their matted hair, long nails that curled over like blunted talons and an inability or unwillingness to stand, they appearedat first physically no different from other human children. They were both girls, one agedabout three yearsold and the other perhaps five or six; the Reverend Singh would sometimes change this estimate, but the consensusheld to a two- or three yeat agediference. They seemedvery small to those who saw them at this stage, perhaps smaller than their actual size becausethey were constantly in a crouched position, but they could be picked up and carried in the arms without difficulty. There was a reluctance, however, to handle them for fear of being bitten or scratched, since it was consideredmore than likely that the children were rabid. At the time this may have seemed the most charitable explanation of their wild appearanceand ferocious behaviour, which in apposition to a completely blank expressionwhen their faceswere in repose,might otherwise be seen to divorce them from the order of human beings. Later that night there was a small celebration at the bungalow, attended by Dibakar, Bhanj Deo and Mr Pattanaik, and some say the Maharajah himself, who supposedlycame over from Baripada to see the children and reward the Reverend Singh for catching them; but there is little evidenceto support a royal visit. What is more certain is that the hunters enioyed an excellent dinner prepared by the Mahatos and afterwards sat long at table in the bungalow's high-ceilinged dining-room, alking over the day's events. On everyone'smind was the questionof how the children ever came to be with the wolves. Dibakar and Mr Pananaik had already made some inquiries among the villages, starting with Denganalia, to find out if any children had been lost in the last five vears. or stolen by
7o
7t
wild animals, but there had been no positive response. The Reverend Singh suggestedthat the girls might have been deliberateb abandoned and later picked up by the wolves in the forest, which meant that no one would dare come forward to claim them. Exposure among the Santals was extremely rare but some other tribes in Mayurbhani still practised it and, although the children were clearly of aboriginal descent, there was no guarant€e that they were Santals.Aaother possibility, suggestedby Dibakar, was that the children came from farther afield,evenas far as thirty or forty miles away, since wolves in some cases were known to range over a wide territory. The question of their provenance was also complicated by the inability of the people from Denganalia, Godamuri and other villages where the story of the ghosts was known, to associatethem with real children or even with real wolves. The saga of the she-wolf, for insance, who had zuffered the loss of her cubs five years ago in the forest near Denganalia was not mentioned by the villagers because it did not seem relevant. Around the dinner table, however, the theory was put forward that a she-wolf who had lost her cubs might have stolen a child, left alone by its mother while working in the fields or gathering roots in the forest,as a replacementfor her own and taken it back to her lair and suckled it. Alternatively she could have stolen the child for food, a common enoughoccurrencein iungle districts, only neglectedto kill it beforereachingthe den, where its scent had become confused with that of her cubs, encouraging her to accept it as one ofher litter. The problem wascomplicatedby there being two children. The girls, who did not appear to be sisters, were separated by an age gap oftwo or three years,which suggestedthat the wolf had taken them probably from different places and almost certainly on different occasionslin other words, the wolf had repeated its experiment in fostering. The possibilities seemedalmost infinite. But all were agreed on one thing - if they had not been acquainted with the
evidence at fust hand, they would have found it unbelievable. Although it is not known for sure whether the Reverend Singh and his companionshad heardor read about children being raised by wolves, other than in Kipling and mythology, it seemslikely that at least one of them would have done so. As recently as rgr2 a caseofa wolfboy had been reported in the Calcutta Statesman and a number of popular bookson hunting and jungle life in India contained accounts and references to children being raised by wild animals.Sincethe appqrance of Mowgli in l9o5 the suh. iea had enioyed a revival of interest, but its appeal had always rested on unsubstantiated stories rather than facl To be confronted by the reality of wolf children was as surprising and as shocking as if the phenomenon had never been heard of before, and everyone according to his lights was feeling unsetded and perplexed by what had happened.The Reverend Singh, a little pompously perhaps, tried to put the case for divine intervention, firstly in the original rescue of the children by the wolves (for he stuck to his theory of abandonment), and then again in what they themselves had achieved that day the return of two of God's children to the human fold. His prayer of thanksgiving was ioined in by all as they tried to ignore the long drawn-out howling that came intermittently from the direaion of the stables. Later the rnen went outside on to the veranda to smoke a pipe in the cool night air. Below them the moon, reflected in the glassy waters of the tank, seemedto tremble to the distant pulse of the Santal drums that drifted up from the jungle, celebratingno doubt the capture ofthe ghosts.From the stablesthe howling continued unabated, each cry beginning on a hoarseand mournful note, and ending up with a shrill, high-pitched wail, not altogether like the howl of a wolf and yet not remotely the cry of a child. They tried to compare the sound with what some imagined were the answering calls of wolves from the iungle, but then Diba-
72
73
kar pointed out that they had been listening to jackals, and soon after the party went back inside and broke up for the night. From the moment he fust sighted the children through Mr Rose's field-glass as they emerged from the white-ant mound, the Reverend Singh had never been in any doubt that it was his duty to rescue them. Although he would come to question the wisdom of this course in futurc yearq wondering if they might not have been happier left alone, regretting particularly the slaying of the mother wol{, he was quite certain at this time that he had taken the right decision.Indeed, it is hard to imaginein the circumstances how anyone in his position could have done otherwise. He wasequally cerain of his responsibilityfor the children now that they had beencaptured.His intention had always been to take them back to the orphanage with him, but immediately this presenteda logistical problem since he was due in Midnapore on 2r October to perform the important christening of one of the European officials' children. Three days did not give him enough time to return by bullock cart, which meant he would have to take the train and leave the children and the bullock carts to be btought back by Janu Tudu and Karan Hansda. For obvious reasonshe did not want to subject them to the train journey, but he was also doubtful that he could trust even Janu and Karan with two such unpredictable charges over the long road home to Midnapore. Finally, he decided to leave them for a few days in the care of Chunarem at Godamuri and as soon as possible to return and fetch them back himself. The next morning he delivered them to their new keeper and after helping him to construct a barricade of sal poles in the corner ofhis courtyard, making a squareofroughly eight feet, they releasedthe children from their cageinto this makeshift pen. Chunarem was given careful instruotions on how to look after them. For food and drink two small earthenwarepots) one containing rice, the other
water, were placed on the inside of the barricade so that they could be replenishedwhenevernecessaryfrom without. Although the children had as yet shown no interest in either eating or drinking, it was thought that as soon as they recovered from the shock of capture, hunger and thirst would assert themselves in the normal way. The Reverend Singh saw no cause for alarml the children, if sornewhat cowed, seemedhealthy enough and C.hunarem and his wife, who appeared to have recovered from their earlier terror of the manush-bagha,gave their word that they would care for them as though they were their own. With such an assurance,the padre left Godamuri to catch the train at Amarda Road and, accompanied by Rose and Richards, returned that afternoon to Kharagpur. Within five days he was back at Amarda, where he was met by Karan Hansda and Janu Tudu with the news that the children were in a desperateplight. He set off at once for Godamuri and found the village almost deserted, Terror ofthe ghostshad taken hold onceagain.Chunarem and his family had panicked soon after he had left the children at his houseand abandoningthem without food or water had gone away to another village, no one knew where. 'I found the situation very graver' Singh wrote in his journal, 'but did not wait or indulge in that thought for long, but made for the barricadeot once, broke open the sal props, and found the poor children lying in their own mess, panting for breath, through hunger, thirst and fright. I really mourned for them and actually wept for my negligence.I sprinkled cold water on their faces.They openedtheir mouths; I poured water in and they drank. I took them up in my ailns one by one and carried them to the bullock cart.'lo The immediate probem was how to feed the children. 'They would not receive anything into their mouths. I tried by syphon action. I tore up my handkerchief and rolled it up into a wick. I dipped it in the tea cup; and when it was well soaked, I put one end into their mouths and
74
75
the other end remained in the cup. To my geat surprise I found them sucking the wick like a baby. I thanked God most fervently for the great kindness in forgiving me my negligencein leaving the children under such care.'rl It is difficult to understand why Janu and Karan, who had looked after the wolfcubs in the back ofthe bullock cart, could not alsohavekept watch on the children during Singh's absence.The same might apply to Bhagobhat Khatua, who 'would certainly have made a more reliable guardian than Chunarem, but his movements after the capture are not known. Possibly they were.all involved in some other work for Singh; or he may have thought it unnecessaryto tell them to keep an eye on things; or again he nay have been covering up for tlrem and taking responsibility for their negligence as well as what he recognized as his own. One can only speculate.More certain is that if they had come any later they would have found the children dead. fu it was they had to remain in Godamuri for severaldays nursing them back to hedth on a diet of milk, until the padre considered them strong enough to travel. The iourney back to Midnapore, with frequent halts on the way to rest the children, took more than eight days. Even so the constantiostling and lurching of the bullock cart did nothing to improve their condition, and they remained weak and unable to move. fn some ways this was all to the good, since it meant tlat they did not have to be confinedto their cageand could lie on a pile of rice straw in the back of the cart. When they finally reached Tantigoria on 4 November and pulled up in front of the gates of 'The Home', after nineteen days of captivity the children were so emaciated, feeble and wretchedlooking that no one could have told anything from their appearance of their extraordinary background. As the Reverend Singh had already explained to Janu Tudu, whom they had left in Chainsole, and now told Karan Hansda and Bhagobhat Khatua, the two girls had been
found abandonedby them in Santaliaand as far as the world neededto be concernedthey werethe neglectedoffspringof mendicantfakirs.He wasdeterminedthat thetrue story of their capturefrom wolvesin the jungle should remaina secret,hopingtherebyto protectthem and himself from the unwelcomecuriosity, sensationalismand gossipwhichin a smalltown like Midnaporewouldotherwiseshadowtheir lives.After prayerson theeveningofhis return in which he agan gavethanks to God for the rescueandsafehomecomingofthe children,the Reverend Singhtook his wife into his confidence,impressingon her the needfor total secrecy.Mrs Singh gaveher word and xxasto keep her promise faithfully. Others, however, wouldnot find it so easyto resistthe telling of a goodif improbable story, and the children themselveswould recoyersoonenoughto providetheunmistakable evidence.
ChapterFow
During their first few days at the orphanage,the wolf girls were kept apart from the other children in a dark outhouse adloining the residential quarters of 'The Home'. Mrs Singh attended to them herself and allowed none of the orphanage servants to go near them. They were given charpoys to lie on and blankets to cover them at night for by now the weather had turned chilly, but in spite of their general debility they reieaed both, prefening to sleep on the floor on rice-straw. They showed no sign of feeling the cold, they neither shivered nor huddled together for warmth except when sleeping, and immediatd tore off any clothes or covering they were made to wear. Mrs Singh, who considered it important that they should get used to wearing clothes as soon as possible,had the idea of tying loin-cloths around their waists with a detachable flap that passedbetween the legs, serving also as a nappy, and stitching them in place. They were unable to free tlemselves from these 'langotis'and made litde attempt to do so until they recovered their strength, when the constant irritation of unaccustomed clothing would keep them busy for hours on end trying to reach their own and sometimes the other's and worry at them with teeth and nails until they had torn them off. In the meantime they lay in the straw completely inactive, except for their feeble eforts to escapewhen Mrs Singh carneto feed them. They showed their fear of both her and the Reverend Singh and their dislike ofbeing pattedor strokedby drawing back their lips from their teeth and growling, but more often than not they acceptedthe milk ofered them. Apart from
water it was their only sustenanceand had to be given in a baby's bottle since they were still roo weak to tate it in any other way. As the daysturned into weeksthe health ofthe children began to cause the Singhs grave concern. Not only were they recoveringstrengthmore slowly than had beenhoped, but they had both developeda large number of soresall over their bodies,which the ReverendSingh attributed to the filth in which they had been left lying in Chunarem's courtyard. As he recorded: 'These sores ate up the big and efiensive corns on the knee and on the palm of the hand near the wrist which had developedfrom walling on all fours. The soreshad a very fearful appearanceand went deep into the flesh . . . Besides attacking the knee and the palm, they extended to foot, elbow and ankle. It was a dreadful sight to see.'lInsteadofcalling in the doctor right awaS which they fearedwould lead to.the exposureof the rescue story, the Singhs began by treating the children themselves,washingthe soreswith carbolicsoapand lotion and bandagingthem with boric cotton. As soonas granulations beganto form they used iodine, zinc and boric acid and the sores gradually healedup over a period of about three weeks, though in the case of the elder girl they would come back severalyearslater, which suggests,since there was no questionofeither girl being leprous,that the complaint may have had more to do with diet than sanit+ tion. About ten daysafter their arrival at the orphanage,when the children became strong €nough to sit up and crawl about a little, they were given solid food consistingofrice and vegetablesand a little meat, servedon a plate and left on the floor of the room, but after sniffing carefully at the food they showed no interest in eatrng, preferring to stay with milk and water, which they now lapped noisily from a bowl. The two wolf-cubs, who had been kept in their original cage, were still young enough to zurvive on milk alone, but the children, it was felt, neededsomething more
78
79
substantial. All attempts to make them eat, however, failed until one afternoon they were taken out into the courtyard at the time when the orphanagedogs were being fed - coincidentally,it appears,though the ReverendSingh must have been interested to seehow they would act in the presence of animals. He tried to prevent both children from going near the dogs for fear that they would be harmed, but only managed to restrain the younger girl; tle elder was too fierce and threatened him when he tried to control her. Showing no fear, although the dogs who could be quite ferociousat feeding time were squabbling among themselvesand fighting over scraps,she went up to them and after submitting to their investigation of her scent and one orrtwo stiFtailed attempts to drive her off, joined in their dinner of meat, offal and bones.Astonished by the way the dogs seemedto recognize the child as one of them, as much as by the eagernessand complete lack of inhibition she displayed in going among them, Singh watched as the girl, on bandaged knees and elbows, darting glancesaskanceat her new companionsrnilling around her, lowered her face to the dog bowl, seizedher food and bolted it with convulsive shakesof her upper body, keephg her headcloseto the ground. She secureda Iarge bone and carried it off in her mouth to a corner of the yard away from the others, where she soon settled down, holding it under her handsas ifthey werepaws,and began to gnaw at it, occasionally rubbing it along the ground to help separatethe meat from the bone. Observing her behaviour with fascinated horror, shocked by so strong a reaffirmation of the instincts and habits she and the younger girl had no doubt acquired from the wolves, Singh was forced to faceup to the reality of the children's true condition and wants. Although he could guesswhat their diet had beenin the forest, during their illnesshe had perhapsdeludedhimself in thinking that on recoverythey would lose some of their wolfish traits. He felt that this should be encouraged by trying to treat them as near as
possiblelike normal human children, by making thern wear clothes, by talking to them (akhough they had no speech and gave no sign of understanding what was being said), by showing them affection and by feeding them on a conventional diet. It was a policy that he would never abandon despiteconstant setbacks;but he understoodnow that, if the children wene to survive, they would have to be fed on raw meat. On Wednesdayz4 November, the girls were thought strong enough to be given a proper bath. Although this did not include total immersion they resisted fiercely and had to be held down while water was poured over them and Mrs Singh soapedand scrubbed them down, taking care to avoid their sores.After bathing the children's long claw-like fingernails were cut; their toe nails, worn down from dragging their feet along the ground when going on all fours, were ffimmed; and the matted balls of hair, which contributed not a little to the wildness of their appearance, were shaved off. The Reverend Singh was pleased to not€ that for ttre first time they almost looked like ordinarychildren and his wife, who had beenconsidering what to call them, now suggestedtwo Bengali names - Kamala,which means'lotus', for the elder; and Amala, 'a bright yellow flower', for the younger girl. Although the names may have seemeda little ironical there was no question of calling them by anything that would draw attention to their background.The appellation'wolf girl' was avoided,if indeed the Singhs were familiar with it there is some evidenc€to suggestthat at this stage they were not. With the cutting of their hair the diference in appearancebetweenthe two children emergedmore clearly. Although both had the flat nosesand large nostrils, high cheek-bones, thick lips and bushy eyebrows of the aboriginals,Kamala, the older girl, had a proportionately smaller head with a round face, little deep-seteyes and rather squashedfeatures.Amala, though there is no very revealing photograph of her, s€emsto have had a more
.
8r
finely etched face, oval in shape, with a more pointed chin and a zufficiendy different look about her to convince those who saw both children together that they were not of the sarnefamily. As to their tribal origins, nobody could be sure, but it was agreedthat probably they were Santals or belongedto one of the related Munda-speakingtribes. The most interesting aspects of their appearancewere undoubtedly those where it was suggestedthat modification had uken place as a result of their living among the wolves. One has to take into account, however, that in his amateur and sometimesfanciful observationsof the children, the ReverendSingh may have confused purely physical description with his impressionsand interpretations of their behaviour.For instance,he describedtheir iaw-bonesas'raised and high . . . Asiatic, no doubt, to all different . . . the jawshad underappearancebutsomewhat gone some soft of change in the chewing of bones and constant biting of the meat attached to the bone. When they moved their jaws in chewing, the upper and lower jaw-boneappearedto part and closevisibly, unlike human jaws . . . When they used to chew anlthing very hard, such as a bone this separationof the jaw-bone was very distinct. Such chewing causedvisible hollows at both ends of the iaw-boneson both sidesof the cheek.'2Possiblythe effect was caused by some unusual development in the musculature of the iaw-bone, but it is not dimcult to imagine how the sight of a six-year-old child attacking a large, meaty bone with the practised skill of a wolf might makeonethinkthatthestructureof the jaw itself hadsomehow become adapted to the child's unusual eating habits. The same goes for Singh's description of the children's eye-teeth, which he claimed were longer and more pointed than normal, although human canines, especially milk canines, are not known to grow beyond occlusal level. Other witnesseshavesaid that their teeth were very sharp, which Singh also noted. This more than likely was true, but they denied that the canines were particularly
prominent, or as the padre observed, that the colour of the inside of their mouths was blood red. The earsofthe children he consideredto be particularly large and they do in fact appear so from the earliest photographs, though in Kamala's casethey seem to have grown smaller as she grew olderl but here again the ears may have appearedlarger to the observer's eyesto explain their unusually powerful senseof hearing which, as Singh records, enabledthem to detect the smallestsound - for example, of approaching footsteps - which drew their attention long before it was picked up by anybody else. When the children became excited for any reason, their ears and lips would tremble and they would pump out breath through their nostrils, making a harsh noise; along with their habit of dilating and contracting their nostrils when investigating a scent and sniffing rapidly at the same time, this no doubt led Singh to remark that their nasal ' openingswere much largerthan ordinarily found in men'.3 From the photographic Evidenceit was hardly apparent. Unfortunately Singh's tendency to exaggerateis common to all his writing. His letters and reports, written in the convoluted and extravagantstyle of Indian English, are full of hyperbole and (particularly in any religious context) histrionic inflation. The fault may be recognized and acceptedfor what it reveals- an inadequatecommand of the language, compounded by a certain cultural and, in Singh's case,characteristic need to make things out to be a little bit more important, more beautiful, more significant, more noble and more tragic than they really were. It is scarcely recommendation for a witness, yet in his logging of the wolf children's capture and progress,he seemsfor the most part to have made a consciouseffort to appear restrained, concise and, to the best of his ability, objective. The children were not deformed in any way and despite their emaciated condition the build of their bodies suggested strength and agility. They had short muscular
8z
83
necks, broad shoulders, flat hips and slender waists that were peculiarly flexible from side to side. Only their arms and, in Kamala's case,hands also from wrist to fingertips, appearedto fhe Reverend Singh somewharawkward and perhaps longer than usual. Unfortunately he took no measurements for comparison. Yet they could neither walk nor stand on two feet and, as a consequenceofgoing on all fours, it seems, the ioints of the wrists, elbows, knees and ankles had grown unusually thick and strong. When lifted off the ground from under the arms their legs remained benr at the knee and at the hip joints, which unlike the ioints of the elbow and wrist had lost the ability to straighten out or make flexible movements beyond a certain angle. Going on all fours, they had three different styles of locomotion, either crawling on kneesand elbows, which gave them the use of their hands (though this was limited to paw-like actions); or more often on kneesand handsin the manner of a nine-month-old baby; or running with their bodiesin a raisedposition on hands and feet. This last method allowedthem to move very fast, as Singh would discover later. Observing Kamala running around with the dogs in the courtyard, he noted in close detail this more rapid mode of progression,with .head erect on the broad shoulders,the body straight, resting on the hip joints; the thigh making an obtuseangle with the leg at the knee and the leg resting on the raised heel; and the front part of the foot resting on the ground with the toes spread out to support the whole weight of the body. The front part ofthe body rested on the straightened hand, supported by the spread-out palm and fingers on the ground.'4 Whether crawling or running on all fours, the hands were never bunched into fists but always opened out, palms and fingers flat. Their toes, however, particularly the big toe, when the foot was placed flat on the ground, stood up at an angle. When they ran along in this way, whether slowly or fast, theconsecutiveierlsoftheheadandthen the hindquarters
rising and falling alternatively, made a sort of undulating movement, which the Reverend Singh compared to the action of a squirrel, especially when they were going at top speed. The progression of limbs, however, was mol€ like that of a genuhe quadruped than a squirrel's: 'At first the left hand was raised and placed on the ground, and immediately the right foot was similarly raised and placed on the ground, and then the right hand and immediatelythe Ieft foot were raised and placed.In this way it wasnoticedthat wheneverany hand or foot wasraisedin progressionthe arm blade or the thigh blade, respectively, wasdepresseda litde, but when running fast nothing could be seen. f qmnot say tlrat the progression was by leaping, but it was a motion of the whole body in a ma$s.t5
Not long after the incident with the dogs Kamala and Amala were moved from the dark and rather airless outhouse to a special enlarged cage, which the Reverend Singh had constructed for them out of wood and wire netting in a corner of his office. The immediateadvantage of the move was that the children would now be close at hand for care, observation and, most important of all, increased human contact. It was part of the long-term plan to bring them graduallyinto the life ofthe orphanage, so that dventually they would be able to ioin rhe other children as ordinary inmates, for neither the padre nor Mrs Singh had any doubt at this stage that Kamala and Amala would regain their human faculties, temporarily eclipsed, as they believed, by habits acquired in the wild. The ReverendSingh's office wasa long, narrow, whitewashedroom with a plain classicalmoulding and a high ceiling supportedby iron beamsand woodencrossbatens. Two doors under ersatz roman arches on the same wesr wall connectedit with the drawing-room and the Singhs' bedroom.The furniture consistingof a desk, chaiq boob caseand bed (sometimesused by Singh or by guests) had 84
85
been rearranged to make room for the cage, which was placed so that it received maximum light from the only window set high in the north wall. The children, however, always sat in the darkest corner and when the winter zun streamed into the room, illuminating the floor of the cagg they made every effort to avoid its rays. The Reverend Singh was aware of their fear of light; although difficuh at first to distinguish from their greater terror of hurran beings, it had become apparent soon aftet their capture. A' match struck in their presence or a hurricane lamp brought into the room, even when they had been too weak to move, produced signs of alarm - one of the few eme tions their static features could register, or at least, which could be recognized by humans - and as they became stronger they showed an intense desire to get as far as possiblefrom any sourceoflight. Fear registered chiefly in their eyes, which during the day were always heavy as if with sleep, often half-lidded; at night when they becarne generally more active, their eyes would be open wide, alert and piercingly brighr This brightness was noticed by a number of those who saw the children at the orphanageat a later stage in their lives, but the Reverend Singh also recorded a more remarkable phenomenon, claiming that sometimes at night a peculiar bluish glare could be seen in their eyeq similar to the reflection in the eyes of cats and dogs and certain other animals. It was first observed by Singh during their illness, when 'they could not bear the presenceof any light in the sick room ... so the light used to be kept at the door keeping them in the shade. They used to crawl into tlle darkest corner of the room to avoid even the faint light. On such occasions when we used to approach thern in the room, we noticed that as soon as they turned towards us, the shape of the bodies used to disappear showing only two faint blue lights in proportion to the strength of the light then emitfing.'6 Singh seemsto have believed somewhat noively that dre
glare actuallyemanatedfrom their eyesand stateselsewherein apparentcontradictionthat it could not be seen when therewasa light in the room.However,if oneakes the analogyofa cat'seyes,it is light falling on them at a certainanglethat producesa reflectionwhich canbe seen These,indeed,arethecondiagainstanunlit background. tions that perain in the descriptionabove.The phenomenon, which Singh linked to the children's undoubted ability at that time to seebetter at night than by day, and becamelessthe longerthey remainedat the orphanage gradually adapted themselvesto a diurnal pattern of existence.Whenthe storyof the wolf childrenreachedttre outsideworld sornetwenty yearslater, the detail of the 'blue glare',thoughtfancifuland unconvincingby some anddownrightimpossibleby others,remainedat thecentre of the feral controversy,although Singh would always on his defendhis claim,stronglydenyinganyexaggeration part, In the meantimehe sawthe importanceof getting the children accustomedto living by day and subjected them, perhapscruellyat first, to the harshbrightnessthat camein throughhis officewindowin an attemptto break the influenceand rhythmsof night. They slept litde, either by dayor at night, thoughthey would lie down for an hour or two at about midday and wereoften caughtdozingwhile sitting in a corner.In the wild their sleeping habits would probably have been determinedby how often they ate - wolvesusually rest and sleepfor long periodsafter gorgingthemselveson a kill - but the ReverendSingh doesnot mentionwhether Kamalaand Amala slept after being fed, only that they restedsometimesin the late evening when presumebly theyhadjust hadtheir mainmeal.Singhis reticentabout at this stage,possiblybecause their feedingarrangements of the taboothat surroundsthe eatingof raw meatandthe ferociousandunnervingdisplaywhich the childrenPut on while devouringtheir food. JageswarKhatua, however, the son of Bhagobhat,who was still boarding at the 86
orphanagewhenthechildrenwerebroughtin, remembers that they werefed on alternatedays.Whenthey did sleep, it wasusuallylying oneon'toPof theother,likepuppiesin a litter, althoughduring their illnessand whentheir sores were causing them serious discomfort they lay apart. Kneeswerealwayspulled up to the chest,evenwhenthey slepton their backs,andtheir handsandfeetwerebrought together,as if they were crouchingwhile lying on their sides.They werenoisysleepers,snoring,grunting,grinding their teeth and at times giving litde cries, but they sleptlightly and the leastsoundawokethem. At any hint ofdanger they wereinstantlyalert, thoughgenerallythey did not come alive until iust before dusk, when they showedsignsofresdessnessand wanting to get out into the open. Singh deducedfrom this behaviourthat they wereaffectedby the zunsetand that the reddishcolourof the eveningsky seenthrough the windowof his office,as it might havebeenthrough the mouth of their den in the jungle, wasthe signalfor them to set out on the prowl. enoughassumPIf a little picturesque,it wasa reasonable tion for a man who had only basic zoologicalknowledgewith which to interpretthebehaviourof rwohuman beingswhosereflexesand reactionswere predominantly animal. After midnight the children neverslept and wereconstantly on the move,prowling around,pacingto and fro, whetherin their cage,the outhouseor in the yard where they were taken for exercise.Sometimesat night they howled.The first time it happenedat the orphanagewas on the night of ro December,soonaftertheyhadrecovered from their illness. 'This cry was a peculiarone,' Singh wrotein his diary. 'It beganwith a hoarsevoiceandended in a thrilling shrill wailing, very loud and continuous.It had a piercing note of a very high pitch. It was neither humannor animal.I presunedit wasa call to their companions,thewolvesor thecubs. . . intendedto makethem But the cubs in their cage 87 awareof their whe.reabouts.'7
near by were too young to answer, though they would whimper and scratch at the barb of their cage in recognition of the children's voices. 'There was a difference of pitch in the fio voices - Karnala's was stronger and bolder, more sharp and shrill. Amala's was weaker,changefuland thinner. But both had a fine thrill ofreverberating notes, very high and piercing. It could be heard from a good distance, and more so on a still night when everyone was asleepand no other sound was audible except the screecb ing of the owl, the chirping of some night bird and the soundsof the animals prowling in searchof prey or drink.'8 The howling always started by Kamala, though Anala would sometimes go on after the elder girl had stopp€d, continued at intervals through the night, and for a while the same pattern would be repeated almost every night until it gradually grew less regular, later becorning only an occasionaloudet for whatever emotion it expressed.They always howled at night, never during the day, and to begin with the noise alarmed everyone at the orphanage: the children had to be comforted, and the servants,from whom some explanation of the girls' behaviour (not necessarily the right one) could no longer be kept, were given strict otders not to talk about it in the bazaar.Ifanyone from the near-by village of Tantigoria askedabout the howling, they were to say it was one of the dogs or the wolf-cubs tJre padre-sahib had bought from the Santals, or else iackals in the field behind the house. The problem of kerping the wolf children a secret was becomingmore and more difficult. The Singhs'own children had come back home for their Christmas holidays; Daniel from a boarding school in Darjeeling and the two girls, Preeti Lota and Buona Lota, from St John's Diocesan School in Calcutta; and naturally they wanted to lnow about the strange creatures being kept in a wire cage in their father's office; especiallyafter Preeti Lota had been bitten on the hand while attempting to pet Kamala. In due course they were told by their mother at leest enough to
88
-
h
satisfy their curiosity, but the story ofthe children's capture from wolves was probably withheld. The sametactics were used on other visitors to the orphanageincluding thc family physician, Dr Sarbadhicari, a frequent caller, whose advice had finally been sought in the treatment of the sores. Although it is not known what explanation was given to Dr Sarbadhicari for the children's, to say the least, unusual condition and behaviour, it appearsto have satisfied him. According to the Reverend Singh it would be another ten months before the Doctor would find out from him the true story of their provenance, but in that time many others would come to know at least a part of the truth from a different source. In their endeavour to protect Kamala and Amala from the curious and at the same time develop their human potentiel, the Singhs had to face frequent dilemmas and even contradiction in the methods they employed. It was not always easy to know what to do and, although in his diary the Reverend Singh describes the procedure as straightforward and simple, it was more a reflection of his own optimism than an accurate depiaion of the cornplex pmblems they faced. To take a scatological example, now that the two girls were recovered from their illness it seerned advisable that they should be taken out as fte quendy and regularly as possible, not only for fresh air and exercise,but in the interest of hygiene. At the moment they urinated and defecated whenever and wherever they felt like it; they had no notion of wiping themselvesotler than by occasionally rubbing their bottoms along the ground as dogs will - this may have had as much to do with local irritation caused by worms, as a desire to get cleanl and had to be washedby Mrs Singh, which they suongly resented and tried to resist with growling scratching and teeth-baring. But if they were allowed out three times a day, morning, noon and evening, it was felt that they would acquire, witl appropriate scoldings and prahe (both quite meaningless to the wolf children), the
habit of emptying their bowels outside the house. However, this presented some dilficulty. If they were walked in the garden or the field behind the orphanageduring the day - naked, on all fours and with a rope around their waists to prevent them trying to run away, or making off to hide under the nearestbush, for they did not like to be out in the open during daylight - there was the constant danger of their being seen and attracting attention. At night, ofcourse, it was safer and, as the Reverend Singh soon found out, the children were more likely to respond 'the calls of to what he termed, appropriately enough, nature' after darkl for in the wild he presumed'that the whole night they used to prowl about outside the caveand used to finish everything during that period, and came back in the caveto rest the whole day there'.eBut it was precisely this, their habituation to a nocturnal existence, that he wanted to break, and yet here he was encouraging it. At length a compromise was reached whereby the children were taken out into the courtyard during the day and into the gardensand field under the cover of nightl but their excretory habits did not change and if, as sometimes happened, they were left in at night, they made no attempt to hold out until the next morning. Arother instance of the difrculties the Singhs had to contend with can be found in their attempts to bring the children into contact with the other inmates of the orphanage. At this stage, two months after their capture' there was still little sign of progress in Kamala and Amala's behaviour. Their reaction to any attempt at fraternizing by either children or adults was either to put on a threateningdisplay or elseto hide away in a corner of their cage and refuse to look round, as if the very sight of human beingswas obnoxiousto them.'The presenceof others in the room preventedthem from doing anything even moving their head from one direction to the other, or moving about a little, changing sides, or turning about. Even a look towards them was obiectionable. They wanted
90
to be all by themselves,and they shunned human society altogether.'loOn the other hand they had showninterestin the orphanage dogs and, on the rare occasionswhen they were allowed to see them, in the wolf-cubs, whose company (along with that of the wolves left behind in the forest of Denganalia) the Reverend Singh believed they sorely missed. But the symptoms of their disness - the howling, sniffing the ground and searching the corners oftheir cage or room - might equally have been a protest against captivity and a reconnaissancefor escape.The purpose of keeping the wolf-cubs separatefrom the children was to destroy the bonds of their former association.Less clear is why the cubs were retained in the first place, since no attempt was made to compare their behaviour with the children's, or make use of them for any other purpose; and, apart from the attentions of Daniel Singh on his return from school, they were generally neglected. Daniel, who was a keen animal lover, used to play with them for hours at a time and sometimes take them on leads to his father's office, which could be dependedupon to elicit a strong and amusing reaction from Kamala and Amala. The padre, afraid that his son might interpret correcdy the rapport that existed befween the cubs and the caged girls, ordered them to be taken out on the pretext that they were upsetting the children; but he had not failed to notice that Kamala and Amala's interest in the cubs had predominated, if only for a moment or tlvo, over their fear of Daniel. If this gave Singh the idea of using the cubs as a means of establishing a relationship with the children, it was over-ridden at this time by the considered danger of reviving the animal associationsof their life in the wild; besides which the cubs did not live long enough for any experiments to be carried out. However, they had already set in motion the long and awkward process by which, ironicallg their former den-mates would eventually regain some of their human faculties. The Singhs noticed that when Kamala and Amala were
hungry they would apprech the corner of the cageor room wheretheir food wasusualtyleft and sit there for sometime; then they would moveewayand return ag'aiq *{ So on doingthis, with Amalamakinglittle whining noisesand occasionallya 'hoo, hoo, sound (Kamalawas silent),until they weregivensomethingto eator drink. If the bowl or plate containingtheir food was put in an awkwardplace,high up on 8 table or chair,for instance, they would male considerableeffortsto reachit, standing on their knees,scrabblingand pushingat the bowl wirh tlreir noses. Their attitude towards eating remained ferocious;as soonas their food wasplaced before them they would smellit carefully,then plungetheir facesinto the bowl and with somewhatgrotesquesound efects and hjdeols grimaces,glimpsedwheneverthey lifted up their heads,bolt it down in a natter of seconds.yet, like rccalcitrantchildren, they alwaysleft the rice and vege ables that Mrs Singh had carefullymhed with the meat, exceptwhereparticleshad adheredto its raw and sticky srrfaces.Convincedthat the diet of r4w ment wascontributing to the children's fiercenessand making them more unmanageable, the Singhstried them with cooked meat and then a purely vegetabledieq but even when ryticeally hungry, after a preliminary sniffing investiga_ tion, neitherchild showedany inclinationto eai.Nonethetheir voraciousappetitefor raw meatwasa constant; fery indged,apartfrom the wolf-cubs,it wastheir only interest in life; and althoughit seemedto the Singhsalmosras retrogressive as allowingtlrem to associate with the cubs, meatwasthe mediumthrough which they choseto work 911"fo limited susceptibilities,wheneverythingelsehad friled. For sometime Mrs Singh had beenbringing groupsof theorphanage childreninto theofficeandtalkinganaiUying with themin front of KamalaandAmalain an anempt at drawing their attention. She would approachthem, point out somethingof interest- a chiH's rattle, a rag doli 92
or perhepsa flower- and, repeatingits narnooffer,it first to one of the children and then to the wolf girls. But neither of them showedthe slightest interest. As the ReverendSingh put it, 'They simply bestoweda forced look,asiflooking at nothing,andwouldquicklyturn their eyesagainto the cornerr'wheretheywouldcrouchtogether 'as if in a trance-likestatesometimesfor hours on end, rneditatingon somegteatproblem'.11Meanwhilethe other childrenwould be playrnggames,runningaboutthe roorn andmakinga lot of noise.KamalaandAmalacouldnot be distracted,but Mrs Singhfelt surethey werenonetheless
93
aware of what was going on around them and were keeping a stealthy watch for any movement that might have been e sourceofdanger. Once when she brought in a tin of biscuits and distributed them among the children, she noticed that the wolf girls reactedto the sound ofthe children eating and caught them turning their heads to look" It was only for a second and then they turned away, but soon afterwards when rnore biscuits were given out they did it again. Mrs Singh approached the cage and offered the girls a biscuit each. They retreated showing ttreir teeth and averting their eyes. She left the biscuits on a low stool inside the cage and went away. The neft day the biscuits were still there. She repeatedthe experiment, only this time when Kamah and Amala again beuayed an interest in seeingthe children eating, shecameover to thern with two small chunks of raw meat instead of biscuits. Again she tried unsuccessfully to makethem take food from her hand, but as soon as she put the meat down on the stool and began to move away' they pounced on it and ate it up. From then on, each time they were offered meat in these circumstmces they would take it and, although the Singhs knew well enough they would accept meat in almost any cirquuuttances,the practice was continued for a time in the belief that at least somesort of link had been established bet\ryeenthe wolf children and other human beings. Any attempt, however, at zubstituting
t&emeatfor biscuie or inducingthem to takeit from the hand or in any way developingthis slendercontacr,met for the time beingwith conspicuous failure. The wolf-cubs were dead, their wastedbodies consignedby Daniel to the flamesof a funeral pyre on the rubbish heapin the field behind the house.But the Reverend Singh had not forgoften.Willing to try anything now, he allowedthe introductionof puppiesbelongingto one of the orphanagebitchesinto Kamala and Amala's cage.His earlierdoubtsaboutthe wisdomof encouraging their associationwith animals were overridden by the exigenciesof the situation, for understandablyhe was worried that the wolf children,like the cubs,would die of lonelinessthrough virtual isolation.Their reactionto the puppies was encouraging.They sniffed at them and allowedthemselvesto be sniffedat in return, bristling a little at first and showing their superionry by feigned indifference,but they madeno attemptto harmthemand toleratedtheir playful and unruly presencein the cage. The puppies were then removed and put th" "mong orphanagechildren,who weremadeto play with them in the sameroom, so that Kamalaand Amalacould seethat they had no fear of the children or the Sinshs. It was hopedby the puppies'exampleto createan intlrest on the wolf children'spart in associatingwirh humans.To begin with, the ReverendSingh's onglnalfearswereborne out and the girls, occupiedwith their new-foundcompanionq paid lessattentionthan ever to the other inmatesof the orphanage.But Mrs Singh persevered.Whether tle puppieswere around or not, as often as she could, she would sit by Kamalaand Amala'scage,usually with one or two of the youngerorphanagechildren on her lap or playingat her feet,and talk alternatelyto them and to the wolfgirls, asifthey, too, \ilerebabiesjustlgarningto talk and walk.Althoughtherewasno changein their behaviour shethen arrangedwith her husbandto let them comeout of the cageand spenda part of eachdayin ,The Home's' 94
95
nursery quarteni, where the youngpst children were cared for. At some risk to herself and the babies, she redoubled her efforts to approach the wolf girls and talk and coax them into some sort of response,but as soon as she came near, Kamala and Amala would quickly move away and go to take up position in the opposite corner of the room. If she followed them they would move again to another corner, and so it went on, until they became irritated by 'game' the and showed their resentmentby baring their teeth and making a peculiar high-pitched growling noise. Then Mrs Singh would give up and sit with the babies and puppies in the middle of the room, going on talking and playing with them as if she had forgotten that the wolf girls were still there. Kamala and Amala remained indifferent, but now, wheneveroneofthe babiesor puppies crawled away from the central group around Mrs Singh or did anything unusual, they would quickly look round from their corner to see what was going on. Gradually they were becoming accustomed to the presenceof other children and, in the Singhs' estimation, beginning to rccognize perhaps that they were not so very different from tlemselves. The break-through, if it can be called that, came a few days before Christmas. One of the orphans, a litde boy of about a year old, called Benjamin, crawled over to the wolf children's corner and before anyone could stop him sat up beside them quite unconcerned. To Mrs Singh's surprise and relief, instead of moving away or trying to seehim ofi, even when he boldly reached out and touched them, they showed neither anger nor fear and remained where they were. It was the beginning of an associationwhich might be compared to the wolf children's relationship with the puppies: they toleratedBenjamin and allowedhim to come up to them whenever he felt inclined, though this favour was'not extendedto any of the other children. Why they had made an exception in Benjamin's case even the Reverend Singh was at a loss to say. However, Mrs Singh
wasfull of hopc that thc wolf children would learn from the boy, especiallyas he wasiust beginnhg to walk and makearticulatesoundsand, without forcing them to be together,she encouragedthe friendship. But about ten daysafter the initial contact,on 3r December,the wolf children suddenlyturned on Benjaminand savagedhim. just in time by thevigilantMrs Singh,but He wasrescued hadreceiveda sevef,e biting andscratchingandbeenbadly frightened.After that he neveragainmadeany attemptto approachthem. There was no apparentreasonfor the attack,thoughthe ReverendSingh believedthat'when they found somedifferenceand understoodthat he was quite differentin natureto them,then they commenced to dislikehim',12whichscarcelyratesasanexplanation.More likely KamalaandAmala,who by now hadfully recovered their strength,weresimply indulgingin a litde roughplay of the kind they must havebecomeaccustomedto while living with the wolves.Indeed, it is surprising that the instancedid not occur sooner.Ironically, it may have markedthe beginningof a fuller recognitionand trust of Beniamin,but it wasinterpreted,understandably enough, as reffogressivebehaviourand the two wolf girls wene confinedoncemoreto their cage. By the middle of January rgzr, almost three months after their capture,the Rwerend Singh was obliged to admit in his diary that the wolf children had madeno progresstowards thc recoveryof their human faculties and as yet shownnothing but aversionto humanbeings and their ways.He recognizedin their morose,apathetic behaviourthe repercussionsof complete disorientation and a desperatelonelinesswhich he interpreted rather romanticallyasa longingfor their formerlife in the iungle and the lost companionshipand protectionof the wolveg but whichtouchedhim deeplynonetheless. Yet neitherhc nor Mrs Singhgaveup hopeand at morningand evening prrlyers, togeth€r with the staff and children of the in tlrc unroofedchapelwhich g:rve 96 orphanageassctrrbled
on to the office where Kamala and Amala were caged,they asked God to speed their recovery. Sometimes durrng silent moments of devotion, the wolf girls could be heard ruking sorneinappropriate noise and inevitably the childrcn would dissolve into giggles, which earned them an rngry reprimand from the Reverend Singh and an extra prayer. But regardlessof their progrcss or lack of it, life at 'The Home', with all its little routines, visits, dutieg lessons and games, went on much as before. Although Mrs Singh devoted a considerabl€ amount of her time to tending the wolf children, the padre could not afford to neglect the obligations ofhis parish, or indeed ofthe sociel mund, where his presence at such functions as a tiffin party given by Mrs Cool the collector's wife, to iurang€ linen and clothing for the needy patients in hospital, or the Christmas Treag held in the Church compound for the poor children of the town" was thought by him at least to be indispensable.But out of deference,perhaps, to the wolf childrer5 that year he did not take part in the Midnapore Ztmlrn.dan C,ompany'sBoxing Day shoot.
n
His parish work, as he explained at a meeting of the Diocesan Council in Calcutta later thet month, was at the present time unhappily restricted to preaching to the converted.The political agitation that prevailed acrossNorth India was coming to a head in Midnapore over the proposedpartition ofthe district; there was a generalreaction against all things British and that included the Church. As a rezult he had been forced to cut down on open addressesand bazaar preaching and for the time being had left off visiting the temple of the goddessKali in Chirimarshai, where the more fervent Hnda babus rnd pandits of the old school met every afternoon, and where in the past he used to confront them in evangelical mood, Bible in hand, in an attempt to explain away their shastras in the light of the Gospel and make them understandthat tme Salvation could be obained only through Jesus
Chist. SinceKali hadbecnadoptedby the revolutioneries as their patron,however,it was not a wise placefor an Anglicanpriestto be airing his 'loyalist' opinions.Oneof Singh'srivals,the ReverendLong of the AmericanBaptist Mission, had recendyhad an open air lantern-lecturein Ghatalbrokenup by politicalrowdiesshouting'Gandhi-gi iai'. Although they had eventuallybeenthrown out by some low-castesweeperswho wanted to see the slideof John show(a scripturaldramaentitledTheBeheading theBaptist)Mr Long had receiveda nastyfright. It wasa lessonlearned,but a stfongelementof competitionexisted betweenthe two missionaries and the ReverendSinghwas far from beinga coward.He wasyet to be seenin the bazaarsdistributing religioustracts and Epiphaniesand visitingthe educated Hindusin their housesor provoking religiousdiscussions at the Public Library, where the English-speakingand more enlightened,babas,the SubJudges, Deputy Magistrates,lawyers, schoolmasters, would meetand clerls, engineers and wealthyzamind,ors socializemost eveningsof the week.But true missionary work, the conversionof souls,wasbecomingincreasingly difficult due to the political situation. It wasthe main themeof the council meeting.Among the different points of view expressedstood the old optimistic belief that, whereasin the pastmost Christians had beendrawn from outsidethe paleof Hindu heriage, the time wasnowat handwhenthe bulk of India'smiddle classes wereaboutto breakinto the Church.This drew the cynical reply tlat wdet Swaraj (Home Rule) mass movementsof outcastsinto Christianity would diminish in turnand the middle classes would find little advantage ing to Christianity if it ceasedto be the religion of the ruling race.The most cogentargumentssupportedthe view that the new waveof nationalismwhich had swept over India sincethe war had accentuatedthe feeling of dissatisfaction amongeducatedChristiansandthe growing estrangementbetweenmissionariesand the community. 98
gg
The failure of the spread of Christianity was attributed to over-dependence on foreign missionaries and the more radical among them claimed to look forward to Home Rule, when Christianity would no longer be identified with the Raj. The Reverend Singh listened to the argument without enthusiasm for it was basically the same case that the S.P.G. had been putting forward for the last quarter of a century, that theaim of missionaryworkwas tocreate an indigenousChurch and to remove the European missionaries in favour of the native clergy as soon as feasible. But with whatever degree of self-criticism and conviction the idea was expressed,it was difficult not to connect the Society's anxiety to withdraw itself in favorir of diocesanization with lack of funds due to waning public interest at home in the missionaryideal. The balancewas redressed by Bishop Westcott,whopointed out that the missionto the Sunderbanshad all but collapsed due to the withdrawal of European missionaries before the Church had been sufficiently well established there, and that in these times of hardship the poverty of so many parishesmade it impossible for the missions to be self-supporting. Foss Westcott, who had succeededBishop Lefroy to the office of Metropolitan in r9r9, as a liberal and forward-looking Churchrnan, was avrare that the chief disability of the Anglican Church in India lay in its intimate ties with the Government, by which a Bishop could not be consecrated or a Diocese divided without the sanction of the Viceroy and Letters Patent from the King-Emperor in England; in its foreign and bureaucratic image, and in the official and socialbearing ofits senior clergy, who lived in an opulent style which Indians found hard to reconcilewith religious leadership. He had already set an example in this last respect by himself living a conspicuouslysimple life at Bishop'sHouse - he refusedto call this magnificentpalladian building, which lies opposite the Cathedral on Chowringhee and where the Council was now assernbledin the
l
'the Palace' - but hc library, by its propet designation of was also obliged by the Government, of which he was a senior official, to mfitain the impressive dignity and detachment which was held to be the lodestar of Britislt rule in India, and had to equilibrate the responsibilities of high office with his role of helping to build a selfgoverning Indian Church. In the ReverendSingh's opinion the new Metropolitan was leaning too far too fast towards reform. Along with a few other clergy he was incensed by what he took to be the Bishop's tacit support for Gandhi when Westcott had describedhim as'the outstanding personality in India a,t the present time' and urged the Council that 'we ought iusdy to recognizethe principles for which he is standing'.l3 The Reverend Singh had litde time for Gandhi whom he regardedas a dangeroustroublernaker, far more dangerous than the terrorists because of his undoubted mystique which enabled him to hold sway over the superstitious mentality of the Hindu massesand which he extendedto a.ll his ploys, from the magic nonsenseof khadi (homespun) and the boycotting of foreign cloth, to what he considered the fundamentally dishonest doctrine of ahimsa (no* violence), which in the last two years of his civil disobediencecampaignshad led to little else but violenceand rioting over most of India. At St john's in Midnapore the Reverend Singh had preached thinly veiled sermons against the 'mahatma' and his disruptive nationalist politics, impressing upon his congregation that it was their duty to support the C.hurchand remain loyal to the government in tlese troubled times. With Home Rule in all men's thougha the position of Indian Christians in the community was a delicate one, but Singh reminded them that ptrsecution could only ternper the steel of a true Christian's faith. His own loyalty was beyond questionl as an Indian he could not ignore the'liberal'arguments being put forward by some of his colleagues for the Indianizatisn of the
rot
Church- for onethingtheyfavourid hisownadvancementl but he would not acceptthat rrform at the presenttime waseitherwiseor necessary, and felt stronglythat instead discussing its own in of futue termsof India without tlre British - a state of affairs he believedwould not come aboutfor a long time - the Churchshouldconcentrateon givingall its supportto the Government.It wasa reactior ary point of view, sharedby more Goverrunentchaplains than missionaries,but it was founded in the Reverend Singh'sabsoluteconfidencein the PaxBritannicq a c* fidencewhich even the massacreat Amritsar two yesrs before, although he strongly disapprovedof Gener.al Dyer's action,had left unshaken, ' After the Councilmeetingthe Reverend$inghremained in Calcuta for a few days stayingat his sistcr-in-la$fs houseon Blondel Streetin Ballygunge.He wasa popular visitor thereand Dr Nathanielalwayskept a bedreadyfor him, warnedonly of his comingby the soundof his voicc boomingup from the courtyardbelow,the heavyclackof his woodenkhwom (slippers)on the stonestairsand the delightedscrearnsof her little boy, Sonny. He enioyed thesevisits to the city and after completinghis priesdy duties, which might involve preachinga sermon at St Thomas'sor St Mary's in the hope of raisingmoneyfor the orphanage(neverfailing to point out that the cost of, living in Bengalhad more than doubledsincethe war), giving a talk on the missionarylife at his old schooland sometimeslending a hand for a day or two at the Oxford Mission,he would alwaysfind time to call in at Bishop's College,where he still had friends on the teachingsafi, thoughhe kept goingbackfor a differentreason.His days tJrerefirst asa studentand then asa traineefor the priesthood addedup to almost sevenye,us of his life. As he walkednow in the empty groundsof the collegebetween the fadedyellowochrebuildingswith their familiarpeeling greenshutters,admiring the spring flowersin the nerdSrkept bordersand.tubs,watchingthe operrbeakedC,slcuttr
crows drink from the emerald waters of the tank and observing how the lawn in the main quadrangle was still well-worn where tJre students played netball, he rejoiced in how little it had all changed since his day and so nourished the comforting ache of his nostalgia. The chapel bell began to peal on the same solemn note he would alwaysremernber. It seemedto relegatethe brush noise of native traffic in the busy Lower Circular Road to another world asthe white
,o2
Singh might have conzulted him, but in his absence there was no one in whom he could confide and he returned to Midnapore pleasedat not having divulged his secret.
ro3
Outsidethe gatesof the orphanagea small crowd of ditch childrenhadgathered; somehadiumpedtheroadside and wereclinging on to the brushwoodfencefor a better view of the groundslothersweresquattingin the dusq playing or milling around aimlessly,as if they were waiting for somethingto happen.The ReverendSingh, who wasshort-sighted,thought at first that the children werehis ownl it explainedthe reluctanceof the saison their wayup from the stationto answerhis questionsabout the state of the orphanagewhile he had been away in Calcutta.He crackedthe whip over the horse'smeagre rump and drovethe tnm-tnmup the incline at a brisk trot readyto be angry with whoeverwasresponsiblefor this breachof discipline,but as they approachedhe saw his mistakeand a litde groupof children,who had nothingto do with the orphanage,ran of shriekingand laughing down the road. The padre'sreputationfor possessing a short temper and dispensingsummaryjusticewaswidely appreciated, but someofthe olderboysstayedtheirground andotherswerestill extricatingtlemselvesfrom the fence when Singh drew rein in front of the gates.By now he suspected the worstandit cameasno surpriseto him when a spokesman for thosethat remainedaskedpolitely if they might see the two wolf creaturesthat the padresahib had brought back from the jungle. Instead of becomingangry, as might have beenexpectedof him, Singhtried to makea iokeof their request,rebukedthem mildly for believingthe gossipof servantsand, dismissing it all as a web of fantasywoven by the bazax spiders, packedthemof home.But assoonashe reached fhehouse he gaveway to his true feelingsand calling togetherfirst his family andthenthe orphanage saff, reprirnandedthem
in turn, with exaggeratedregrcg for breaking their word to hin\ for ofending God and for endangering the very lives of two of His most unfortunate children. He did not pursue the matter, however, and made no attempt to find out which of his household was responsible for giving the show away, realhing, as soon as he had zufficiently calmed down, that in the end somebody was bound to talk and tbat it did not really matter whether it was the fault of the cook or of Daniel, his own son - the damagewas done. But it was not yet iffeparable. Over the weeks that followed the children came back day after day and hung around outside the gates in the hope of seeingsom€thing that meazuredup to their notion of a wolf creature. Now and ag:ainthey vrere kept company in their vigil by a few curious adults, but while these were easily persuaded to depart by the padre, who denied categorically even the possibility of such a phenomenorq the children had to be driven away at regular intervals by one of the orphanage servants, or sometimes by Singh hfunself, who only needed to eppear in the driveway, a huge menacing figure in his winter-black cassock, to scetter their troops. In the end it became no more tian a game, in which the idea of wolf creatures featured less and lessas the children gtew weary of repeateddisappointment and eventua$ abandoned their siege of the orphanage. For the mom€nt the secret of Kamala and Amala's past was as safe as a hundred other improbable rumours, sorhe true, others not, that float up on the currents of baz.at alk either to be forgotten or dissipated by the Hindu's hve of turning what might have been into myh, a blur across the vision which grants a limited but depreciatory credenceto aklost anything. It was only a t€mporary reprieve, however, and although he would deny it later when he had become thoroughly enmeshedby the lies he had chosen t
ro4
pore there was litde hope ofkeeping their secret saft fc ever. Already visitors to the orphanage, remarking on tlre hksome presence of the children outside the gates, were asking if there was any truth in the stories that were going round, and under pressure the Reverend Singh would teH them about the two litde idiot girls in his care, the daugb ters of a mendicant fakir, who had been deprived from birth and later abandoned, and of whom it was said -
ro5
becausethey were a little retarded in speechand movement - by superstitious, over-imaginative servants, that they must have been raised by aniurals. His account was brief, convincing, dismissive and while Kamala and Amah seratched about at the bottom of their cage in the office next door, the visitors would take their tiffin in the drawing room and feel a litde embarrassedat having appearcd susceptible to kitchen gossip. As a result they never asked to seethe children and went away satisfied,but the Sitrghs' luck could not last for ever. Towards the end ofJanuary that year an incident occurred within the fr*ily, unfore seen and almost tragic in outcome which, although it ternporarily diverted their attention frour the problern of, the wolf children, finally brought home to them the impossibility of the task they had ser rhefilselves. It happened one afternoon when Daniel Singh, recently turned fifteen yearsold, was searching for guinerfowl eggs in one of the orphanage outhouses.A number of birds, kept for food as well as decorative puqposes,were allowed to run loose in the grounds, always available for the pot Their eggs, however, which guinea-fowl lay in one place and keep carefully concealed, were not so easily found and it was something of a triumph for Daniel to comc across an enormous cache of them under a pile of ricc straw used for thatching in the corner ofthe store roornHe was so excited by his find that he did a litde victory dance round the eggs and threw himself down on thc straw, rolling over and laughing with deliglrt at his good fortune. He flung out a hand to steady himself for fear of
smashing the eggs and caught hold of a niche in the wall where the brick had crumbled away. A cobra lying inside the cavity bit him on the thumb and then again in the ioin between his first and second fingers,leaving part ofits fangs embeddedin the second wound, broken off by the boy as in fright and pain he pulled back his hand, bringing the snake with it. The cobra fell to the floor hissing angrily and slithered away under the straw. Daniel ran out into the garden screamingfor help. Fortunately the Reverend Singh was near by and able to drive into town at once to fetch Dr Sarbadhicari.They came back together within an hour and the fight for the boy's life began. Tourniquets were tied and retied,.antisnake bite serum iniected, poultices of permanganateof potashapplied, a seconddoctor sent for; but Daniel, who was not as robust or healthy as his father, grew pro. gressivelyweaker.He lay pale and drenched in sweatunder a blanket on the drawing-room settee, attended by his mother and two sisters,while outsidethe doctors debated with his father whether he had taken the full sac of the cobra's venom, and if he had, what his chanceswere of survival. The doctors were not particularly hopeful: the full bite of a cobra, unlesstreated immediately, is usually fatal. When there was nothing more they could do, they went away leaving instructions for the boy to be kept warm. The padre, distraught with grief, called together the staff and children of the orphanageand, asking them to put their faith in God, led them in prayer for Daniel's recovery. Meanwhile Mrs Singh, who as a child had seenher own father die of a snakebite in Murshidabad, had as a last resort, without asking her husband's permission which she knew would not have been given, sent one of the servants out with a messagefor her brother-in-law, Jotindro Lal Singh, to come at once. Joti Babu, as he was familiarly known, had a reputation for being able to cure snake bites. The youngest of the
Singh brothers,he had cometo Midnaporesoonafter his eldestbrother'sordinationandmuchto the latter'sdismay had settledand stayed,for althoughhe managedto hold down-adecentiob asrecordkeeperat the Judge'sC,ourt, Joti Bebuwirsnot a goodadvertisementfor the Anglican Church.Nominallya Christian,it waswell knownthat he preferredto worship Kali in strangeTanuic ceremonies down by the burning ghats of the Kasai river, casting spells which he had learnt as a boy from an old man in Bankura,as he squattedbesidethe half-burnt bodieson the funeral pyres,and, as the storieswentt ate rice from their smokingskulls. An eccentric,Ionely and reputedly miserly character,who wore a belt of Victoria sovereigns around his waist and kept a brand new Raleighcyclein his shed,which he neverallowedhimselfor anyoneelseto ride, but from time to time would dustdownandlovingly polish, Jotindro Lal was not welcomeat the orphanage exceptoncea year as a gueston ChristmasDay. It was saidthat he kept a pair of milk-white cobrasin a wooden box under his bed; yet he had neverbeenknownto harm anyoneand asa herbalistenioyeda certainreputationfor and afflictionsin caseswherethe curing specificdiseases doctors had failed; but as far as the ReverendSingh was concernedhis brother was a Tantric, a dabbler in black magic,and that necessarilyput him beyondthe pale. Jotindro Lal cameas soonas he receivedMrs Singh's message and for oncethe padretsprotestswereoverruled by his wife, assheled her brother-in-lawto the sick-room, where after turning everyoneout he took chargeof the patient. First carefully removing the splinters of fang from betweenhis fingers he made Daniel hold a black bean-shapedstone (said to have been taken from the headof a male toad) againstthe wound. Then, placing cowrie shellsand red pepperson the boy's eyestogether with a lock of Mrs Singh'shair - goodChristianthough ro7 shewas,she gaveit willingly - he cast,aspell whieh he
chimed would induce the snakeb return under the cover of darknessand suck out its own poison. Acting directly against the doctors' instructions, he made Daniel sit uXl, threy* off the blankets and helping him to his feet walked him backwards and forwards across the room for hours on end until the boy was so tired he could no longer move. But somehow Joti kept him awake and kept him walking dl through the night. Whether or not the cobra came back for its venom, by dawn the worst wils over. Daniel continued to be seriously ill for a dey or two and weak for some time afterwards, but apart from shedding his skin in places he recovered without any ill effects. The Reverend Singh refused to accept that Jotindro Lal had had anything to do with saving his son's life, which he ascribed to the power of snake serum and the grace of God. Nevertheless,he allowed him to return once or twice to the orphanage during Daniel's convalescence. It was on one of theseoccasionsthat he found him in his ofrce, standing quite still and watching the wolf children cowering in a corner of their cage. No explanation was mught or given. Jotindro, it appeared, already knew the children's history and merely askedhis brother if he might be allowed to treat them. The padre was incensed,as much by his offer to help as by his calm revelation that he also Lnew their secret.Resentful ofJotindro's suddenly respectable standing in the family after the triumph of Daniel's nccovery,a state of affairs complicated by his own ambiguous feelings towards his son, who had grown up to be a constant source of yorry and disappoinnnent to him, he felt threatened by what he saw as a new attempt by Jotindro to extend the influence of rnagic and superstition over his household. The idea of Kamala and Amala being zubjected to the obscenity of Tantric spells was more than he could bear,and in a zuddenaccessof temper he ordered his brother out oftle house, never to return. It was only bter, when he realized that he had forgotten to ask Jotindro how he had found out about the wolf children,
ro8
that it occurred to him thag instead of offending hie brother,he shouldhavebeggedhim not to. spreadthe story; but he needhardly haveworried,for Jotindro was a Inan without friends who spoke little to anyoneand rarelyborea grudge.
(XrapterFive
Wth the arrival of spring, a barelydifferentiatedseason, which producesits refreshingcrop of brief-lived flowers and new vegetation,but in everyonetsminds merely adumbratesthe fast approachinghot weather,life at the orphanagemovedoutdoors.The large'English' garden surroundingthe house,oftencomparedto an oasisin the wastelandof the Gope countrysideby grateful visitors sitting out in front of the porchsippingteain the generous shade of the ansh tree, becamea cenffe of activity. Although there were no lawnsor flowerbedsto speakof, the $arden covered some three-and-a-halfacres with diferent variefiesof rnango,palm, tamarindand jackfruit trees, coundessflowering shrubs and row upon row of large earthenwaretubs spilling over with the tropical exuberanceof ipomea,croton, coleus,poinsettia,and the delicatetendrils of passionflower, convolvulusand ias. mine.All of which madeplentyof work for the mali and the orphanagechildren, who were taught to help with wateringandtendingthe plantsandkeepingthepathsand bordersof thecompoundtidy. TheReverend Singh,whose proud creationthe gardenwas,typicallyenoughpreferred to grow Englishflowers,violets,nasturtiums,phlox and other varieties,which, if they did not do as well as the exotic local species,carriedtfar greatercachet.Although gardeningwasa habit recentlyacquiredfrom the British, and not much favouredby the Bengalis,for whom the virtue of a flower lay in its scentand its religioussignificance,someof the educatedbabushad learntto adrnire and evento copy the neatly orderedcompoundthat was
the hallmark of the Sahib residence in India, an acre or so of would-be Surrey, defiant against the hostile climate of a foreign land. In their enthusiasm for the English garden some got carried away, forgetting that a highly cultivated and tree-filled compound was apt to make the house airless and unhealthy, but the Singhs' garden was big enough for its profusion of growth not to create il suffocating atmosphereand all who knew 'The Home' remember it first and forernost for the cool, luxuriant beauty ofits grounds. The garden also served a practical purpose, providing fruit and vegetablesfor the orphanageas well as fodder for the horse and cows. A kitchen allotment lay between the stablesand the seryants' quarters at the rear of the main building, protectedalong its north border by a high, dense growth of lantana bushes,which cut it off from the open field that lay beyond. Here in a secludedcorner under the shade of a jackfruit tree, a large open-air pen had been constructed for the wolf children, where they could be Ieft for an hour or two without the need for constant zurveillance. It was in accordancewith a new plan to give Kamala and Amala more freedom, which their guardians felt would help develop their trust of human beingp. Although they were put back in the cage in the Reverend Singh's office at night, during the day now they were allowed to run loose in the courtyard, but always under the supervisionof Mrs Singh or one of the older children. Their initial reaction to not being so confined was to spend their time finding ways to escape,restlessly patrolling the courtyard like zoo animals. And it was not long before they understood enough of their new surroundings to concentratetheir efforts on the gate which led out ofthe courtyard into the kitchen garden. One Saturdaythey were left in the chargeofthe eldest among the orphans,a girl called Khiroda, who had been abandonedas a baby on the Singhs' doorstepunder a pile of old rags soon after they had come to live in Midnapore.
She had grown up a responsible and conscientious child and, as instructed, k.pt watcMul eye on Kemala and Amala. They were sining "close by her in the shade of the wall with their eyes half-shut, their tongues hanging out and breathing loudly through their mouths, for it was a warm afternoon. Khiroda had failed to notice, howeveq that one of the other children had left their circle and run out ofthe courtyard, leaving the gate into the garden open. Whether they had observed what had happened (possibly at this stage of their development the wolf children were mue perceptive of movement than form) and intended to follow, or were simply making an exploratory investigation, Kamala and Amala suddenly started towards the gate moving rapidly on all fours. Khiroda looked round and saw the danger. She leapt to her feet and ran to head them off, but the wolfchildren were too fast and too strong for her. The moment she uied to lay a hand on them they turned and bit and scratched her so fiercely that she was obligedtoletgo,both arms streamingwith blood, and could only watch in honor as they ran out into the garden and disappearedinto the lanana bushes.The alarm was raised amid general confusion by one of the children who came rushing into the housescreaming that Kamala and Amala had attacked Khiroda and escapedinto the iungle, whic*r brought the Reverend and Mrs Singh and all the orphar age staf hurrying to the spot While Mrs Singh anended to Khiroda" the padre organized the search for the wolf children, sending a back-stop round to the far side ofthe hntana bushesin casetheycame through and tried to make offacross the field, but concentrating his main forces on a frontal assault. Reminiscent of beating up tiger or pig in the iungle, it was not an easy job.Lantanarowing to its Lw, dense growth and the shark-skin abrasivenessofits tendrils, which earns it the nickname of .Forest Officers' Cr.use', is practically impenetrable;.and yet Kamala and Amala had found thcir way tfuough the worst of it with apparent ease. After wns rime they were spotted lying
rn
rr3
low in the middle of a densethicket, not maling a sound; nor did they attempt to move away as their captors slowly cleared a path towards them; only their eyes glinting through the undergrowth gaveany indication ofthe fear or ttre resentment which Singh sometimesimagined they felg before they were finally recaptured. The incident resulted in the construction of the pen under the fackfruit tree, but otherwise no attempt wes made to restrict their freedom. As before they were allowed to move about inside the courtyard and continue to be with the other children, only now they were kept under the constant supervision of one of the orphanage servants, or Mrs Singh herself. The children, however, having seen what had happened both to Beniamin and to Khiroda, gave Kamala and Amala a wide berth. Only the very youngestin all innocence made occasionalattempts to approach them or involve them in their games, which usually rezulted in a threatening drsplay by the wolf girlg howls of alarm from the other children and Mrs Singh having to come to the rescue.Ifthey were given toys as an encouragementto play among themselves,they would ignore them or chew them up as though they were bones. Any remaining hope of bringing about even the most basic relationship between Kamala and Amala and the other orphans quickly evaporated.But although the wolf girls still showed not the least interest in people and tried to avoid both children and adults whenever possible, human contact was still regarded as an essential part of their rehabilitation. Ifthey were unable or not inclined to learn by imitation, the Reverend Singh believed that they would gradually claim back their human nature by a sort of osmosis.But he had few illusions about their progressso far. It was nearly four months since he had brought them in from the iungle and they were still in all their immediate needs, actions and reactions no more than animals. His earlier, somewhat overbearing confidence in his own and his wife's ability to effect the speedy recovery of their
human faculties, as it were through the Lord's will, had given place to a humbler, more pragmatic approach. Through careful observation, thought and prayer, he had come to understand the complexity of the wolf children's situation and how difficult and painful it was for them to adapt to the conditions which he must take responsibility for imposing upon them. 'They had cultivated the animal nature and condition of life almost to perfection in the animal world,' he wrote in his diary. To changethaq meant to changean acquired, and so far a penniment habit, which was not easyfor them. We failed to understandthem practically,aswe hadno experiencelike thern But this is certain,that they hadto undergoa gooddealofhardship andinconveniencein their sethabitsto permit suchchange to comeabout . . . if they wereto grow in humanity,they would haveto fight with their fixed animal character,formed during thoseyearswith the wolvesin their caveand in the jungle, i.e. the whole animalenvironment.Theirs wasnot a fiee growth as in tlre caseof a human child of that age. . . it wasa hampered growtl5 consequentlyvery, very slow in all its progress.l Out of this refinement in his appreciation of their predicament grew a willingness on the part ofthe Reverend Singh to allow Kamala and Amala to develop in the directions which they seemed to favour and to do so in their own time, rather than try to impose his own structure on their development. It meant renouncing his earlier, often muddled and contradictory policy of discouraging those aspectsoftheir behaviour - whether it was the association with the orphanage dogs, or recendy discovered habit of pouncing on cockroaches, lizards and mice on the floor of their cage and eating them up while still alive, or their unchanging preference for living by night - which he disapproved ofbecause they seemedto him retrogressive, and giving them instead more freedom to do whatever pleasedthem. Unfortunatd, there was very little in their liveq apart from the satisfaction of eating and drinking, which they could be said to enioy. Although an involuntary
II4
rr5
rictus sometimesdisturbed Kamah's features,which might have been comparedto a grin (Singh called it 'a smiling face'), it was not an expression of pleasure or happiness and behind the distortion her face remained mask-like. Neither she nor Amala had ever been seen to smile or heard laughing. The only time they gave any sign that they might be enioying themselves was when they were taken out walking, at night or in the early morning in the field behind the orphanage, and like dogs allowed off the leashfor a little while: 'When they went with us in the open field, if they could perchance get away from us a good distancewhich gavethem the assuranceoffreedom, we could seethem stealthily moving about, and at times, playing between themselves: running about, iumping on feet and hands, looking at one another in a different manner altogether.All this spokeof.a peculiar joy among animalsonly.'z On one of these nocturnal jaunts in mid-February they were almost too successfulin evading their keepers, making them play hide-and-seekaround the field and grounds ofthe orphanage from eleven until two, taking advantage of their remarkable ability to travel easily over difficult and unfamiliar terrain in pitch darkness. At night they were not afraid and, in contrast to their generally furtive and apathetic behaviour during the daytime, their whole 'After dark, the least demeanour becameone of alertness. sound drew their attention. They looked round very sharply and watched ifit was near. Ifat a distance,they adjusted their ears by a litde jerk every now and then and listenedattentively . . .'3They enjoyeda kind of confidence in the night; darknesswas their elementl and to seethem at home in it, prowling about in the courtyard after the children and servantshad goneto bed, bold and unafraid, was to appreciate the only successfulaspect oftheir lives. And yet, as the Reverend Singh found, believing that day and night are divided betweenmen and animals'by God's sanction and approval', there was something deeply
shocking abqrt the chrnge that came over them eftet dusk. They continued to bc able to see better at night than during the day. In a slightly dubious experiment using hidden m€at bones, it was found that although Kamala and Amala could smell out the bones at any time, they could locate them more easily in the dark or deep shade. Throughout the month of March the weather became steadily hotter and asthe power ofthe sun grew fiercer day by day they becameincreasingly susceptible to its blinding rays and would always seek out the darkest and cooles corner ofthe room or courtyard and stay there until dark, coming out only to look for food. If they were left in the sun for any length of time, as sometimes happened when they were put out in their pen, they were unable to keep their eyesopen and started blinking and panting like dogs with their tongues h"ngg out. According to the Reverend Singh, they nwer perspired and did not appear to want more to drink in the heat. Nor were they any more amenable to being washed: a bath caused them the greatest displeasure.When thirsty they would go to their bowl or, if they were being taken for a walk, lead towards the stream where they quickly lapped up their fill of brackish water. Kamala would sometimes indicate that she was thirsty by licking her lips as if they were dry, but it could scarcely be regarded as deliberate notificationl on the other hand Amala, the younger girl, would utter a sound, approximately 'Bhoo Bhoo', as she approachedthe water, and very soon came to make the same sound when she wanted a drink but for some reason was unable to get one. By grving her water only on demand and making other experimentg Mrs Singh did her best to foster and exphit what appeared to be a genuine attempt at communication bug beyond repeating her little noise when thirsty, Amala would not cooperate and there for the time being this unquestionably important development rested.
rr5
17
There were other minute indications, however, thet the wolf children, though by no meansready to take possession of their human sensegwere beginning to adapt themselves to a humanenvironment. Among a number of incidents, often over-eagerly interpreted by the Reverend Singh as signs of improvement, but all sharing this much in conrmon: that they showed Amala taking the initiative and Kamala following her example: one incident in particular revealed a signfficant change ofattitude. It happened one morning that a cow tethered in the courtyard was frightened by something (which Singh, perhaps deliberately, does not specify) and suddenly broke loose, running out tfuough the open gate into the garden and passing very close to a group of orphanage children. Scattering in all directions, they reacted by yelling excitedly at the top of their voices; Kamala and Amala, who had been sitting in their shady corner, not far from the othet children, but well out of the path of the sampeding cow, ran on all fours to where Mrs Singh was standin& as if to seek her protection. Although they stoppedshort of coming up to her, again Amala had led the way and later that same day she came shyly, followed at a little distance and clearly with great reluctance by Kamala, into the room where Mrs Singh was working and waited there for sometime, vatching her from their corner. At first only Amala could bring 'by and by Kamala herself to look at Mrs Singh, but commenced to look at her, at first stealthily by side looks and then slowly by looking straight and meeting her eyes as she looked'.4 Mrs Singh was touched by thit linle show of confidence but, deliberately ignoring their presence, made no attempt to appoach them orofferthemmeatand after a while they yrent away as hesitandy as they had come. It was the first time they had singled her out for eny pupose other than that of getting food or drink and, dthough their earlier reaction to the cow may have been uiggered less by fear - indeed, therg is some zuggestion that it was their prescm'in the courtyard that had mede
the cowsampede- than by seeingthe otherchildrenrunn it wassignificantthat they shouldhavebegunto copytlem and then graviated towardsher. That they should have cometo her a secondtime wasproof that at lasther efforts had beenrewarded.After four months of being nursed and fed by Mrs Singhalone,nor only had they learnedto expectfood and drink from her, but this knowledgeand the regularfulfilment of their expecationshadled to some sort of attachmentthat wasgrowingbeyondthe limits of ie conditions. But if it wasthroughthe agencyof food that a measure of progress,howeverinfinitesimal,had beenmade,their eating habits and diet had not changedsignificantly.It wasKamala,the eldergirl, wholed theresistance to breaking with old habits.'She couldsmellmeatfrom oneend - to ofthe garden- a compoundofthree-and-a-halfacres the other. All of a suddenshe went running very fast. I followedher closebehind.Sheat oncecameto the place, wheremeatwasbeingpreparedfor the table,and fell on it with her mouthdownto snatchit away.. .'5But on this occasion,much to Kamalatsrage,the cookwastoo quick for her. 'The pupils of her eyesrolledfrom sideto side, asshemovedher jawsopeningthem out and closingwitb a sharpchatteringnoise.'6Sometimesthe wolf children would gettherefirst andwhetherit wasmeatfor the table or a deadanimalor bird thatthey hadfound-they were particularlyfond of rotten meat- they did not careto be obstructed.'It was very difficult to take it out of their mouth. Even if [I] succeeded in snatchingit away,they alwaystook a bite in the mouth. The meat was simply takenout by force,but asmuchasthe teethcaughtinside the mouth remainedinside. They swallowedit without chewing.They took the meatfrom our hand with a gulp like a dog. They madea peculiarnoisewhile eatingand remainedquite alert that it wasnot takenawayfrom them. They alwaysbecameferociousat sucha time with all the attitude of a wild animal.'7
''
rr9
In spite of his new resolutionto allow Kamala and Amala more freedom,it was dmost impossiblefor the ReverendSingh not to try to contain this side of their nature.As yet they had not beengiventhe opportunityto develop any latent hunting instincts they might have acquiredandsofar chanceconfrontationsin the courtyard with guineafowl, chickens,ducksand goatshad provoked no incident; but it wasa constantworry, after witnessing that their summarydealingswith mice and cockroaches, they would soon Lill somethinglarger. In view also of their attackson Beniaminand Khiroda he wasobligedto considerthe safetyofhis orphans.But apartfrom preventing them stealingthe best cuts from the kitchenveranda or picking up carrion in the garden,there was little he themfrom eatingmeat,for whether coulddo to discourage or not it triggeredtheir ferocity, it had remainedtheir staplediet. They still could not be inducedto eat rice or vegetablesunlessthey were mixed with blood and raw meat; they reiectedcookedmeatand fruit and would not touch their food at all if it containedsalt; if they picked up the leastsmell of salt or any spiceon a pieceof raw meat,beforeeatingit they would rub it alongthe ground frst to removethe offendingflavour.Mrs Singh,however, with doctoringtheir milk (much had had more success. preferredby Kamalaand Amalato water),into which she had gradually introduced sugar and barlen until they to the tastethat they would refuse becameso accustomed the milk if it was not sufficiendysweet.And yet th€y showedlitde liking for biscuits or Bengali'sweets' like rasgullaand other sticky, milk-basedconfections,prepared by Preeti Lota Singh and alwaysa favouritewith because the orphans,perhaps,asReverendSinghsuggests, they did not understandhow to eatthem. Mrs Singh persistedpatiently, almost stubbornln in treatingKamalaand Amalaasif they had beenadmitted to the orphanagei$ year-old babiesand were really no difierent from any of the other children. Using food
j
rcwards,she encouragedthem to yarticipate,if only as unwilling spectatorqin the simple routinesand learning gamesof the kindergarten.In tlre wenings she woulil sometimestakea tray of biscrrits,fruit and sweets,as well as somesmall chunksof meat,into the infants'dormitory and askthoseamongthem who were learningto talk to name the different titbits on the tray, and where they failed to do so,supplyingand repeatingthe correctnames beforedistributingthem.KamalaandAmalawouldwatch from their corner,indiferent to what wasgoing on, until the food washandedoug whenthey would comeforward to receivet}reir share.Mrs Singh would offer them first the fruit and sweets,but after their usual investigative sniff they showedno interest. She then produced the piecesof meag holding one out to them and then withdrawingit in an affemptto makethem reachout andtake the meatin the hand ratherthan with their mouths.After first Amalaand a long strugglesheeventuallyzucceeded; soon after Kamala learnt to take meat with their hands and transferit to their mouths.Amalaalsolearnt to hold a cup of milk and with much spillagecould evencarry it to her lips, though she was unable to drink from it. In addition to these not inconsiderableachievementsin motor behaviour,Amala now showedthe first signsof a diferent order of intelligence. She and Kamala had taken to following Mrs Singh whenevershewentinto the infants' dormitoryin the hope that food would be givenout. fu often asrot they would be disappointedand Mrs Singh would do nothing morc exciting than read aloud to the children, or tell them religiousposters simplestoriesfrom the garishly-coloured pinned to the dormitory walls, pointing out and making them repeattlre namesof variousobjectsin the pictures. None of this appealedin the leastto the wolf children, sitting on their haunchesin the cornerwith headsbowed. But if Mrs Singh happenedto mentionthe namesof the different kinds of food and drink that all zummerthey
t20.
had heardrepeatd b her and the childreq then Amala would immediatelylook up, followed by Kamala"at the nearestof the pictures on the wall. The pink-featured, flaxen-hairedChrist woodenly returned their unseeing starefrom the authorizedlandscapeof the Sernonon the Mount, but Mrs Singh knew that she had witnesseda miracle,or at leastreceiveda sign that the way forward now lay opento them, and her husbandcould do no less than agreewith her. But before this more hopeful stagein their dwelop. ment was reachedby about the middle of August, the wolfchildren had gonethrougha long periodofinactivity in June and Juln both of body and mind, which had causedtheir guardianssomeconcern.By now they had moreor lessgivenup trying to run arilay,exceptat night when they would still give vent to 'that peculiar shout whichtooktheplaceof articulation'andwouldceaselessly roamthe courtyardlookingfor a way out. They had even begunto toleratethe clmeproximity of the Singhsandthe other orphans,but their attitude seemedacquiescent and morose rather than cooperative.The ReverendSingh sugg€sted,as usual in over-simplifiedbut perspicuous t€rms, that their behaviourrevealed'a pensivestate of mind'. Prematurelyantlnopomorphic,he saw them as becomingfamiliar with and graduallylearningto accept tJreir new environmentwhile still yearningfor their old life with the wolves,and being forced to 'compareand @ntrasf' and finally to choosebetweenthe two. Indee4 they were set back in a state of suspension,Iiterally of completeacculturation,and it was far from cerain how they would emergefrom it, if they emergedat all. The monsoonbrokethe first weekin June,bringingits cruel mixrureof relief from unbearableheatand the slow build-up of tensionundera stifling humidity. Throughout the long sticky months,while tJreorphanagegardengrew up a jungleof brilliant greenunder the batteringrain, the mangotreesborefruit andthe air washeavywith the scent
of iasmine, marigold and night-blooming sewlee(thd flower of sadness), Kamalaand Amalawould sit togethet day after day in a dry part ofthe courtyardor facingthe wall in a whitewashedroom with a dark cloud of mosquitoes hoveringover their heads,lost to the world. Their renewed indifference towards everything became as enervatingand depressingas the reiterativemonotonyof the rain. It wasdifficult sometimes to persuadethemeven to movefrom wherethey sat and they had to be dragged out for their morning and eveningwalks.But the Singhs persevered.Routinesand exerciseswere not allowedto lapse. While the padre conrinuedwith his aftemprsro makethem standand learn to walk on two legs,trotaing them up by the handsas if they were dogs and slowly moling awayfrom them,sothat they hadto advance,srep or hop at a time, Mrs Singhhadtakento giving them botL a massagewith mustard oil first thing every morning, talking to them affectionately as she did so. They had alwaysbeenvery sensitiveto beingtouched,but eventhis now becamea matterof indifferenceto them,thoughMrs Singh maintainedthat tle massage washavinga soothing and reassuringeffect.All the time shewent on rying to recapturetheir interestwith food gamesand againwith animals,bringingin dogsand puppies,goatsand kids to play with fhem.Hereat lastshehad somesuccess. They beganto pay attentiononcemore to the young animals, watching all their movementsand even handling them playfullyand licking their faces,thoughif the old goats or dogs cameanywherenear they at once scowledand showedtheir teeth.But the puppiesandkidsdid thetrick. Within a week the crisis had passed.Their mood of entrenchedapathywasbrokenand from therethe journey ba$ to thestageofdevelopment theyhadreachedearlier, and onwardsto Amala's triumphant associationof the word and a picture was swift and unintemrpted.As the ReverendSinghput it: 'After this perioda differencein their stateof mind wasnoticeable.They tried to do soure r22
t2l
things even though they had no interestin them. They could not remainpassiveany longer.They must grow or fall backwards.Their activity in the animal world was forcibly stoppedin their changedcircumsancesand they were placedin a diferent sphere:they must live and to live meansadaptingto their new circumstances.tg The reasonfor the break-through,in his opinion, was that Kamalaand Amala had at last learnt to trust those around them. He believedthat the affectionwhich had by Mrs Singh,who beenlavishedupon them,especially had alwaysheld that love wasthe key, aswith any child, for gettingthrough to them, had finally won conffol over the embattledcourse,the zig-zagpathof minute advances and crushing setbacks,which their lives had run since they had beenadmittedto 'The Home'. In comparing their situationto that of wild animalscapturedat a time when they $'ere too old, too set in their ways, to be successfullytamed,he realizedthat the crucial difference with the wolf children lay in their untapped human potential.To reachthis potentialand developit required a willingnessto changeon their part, that wasdependent not merelyon the breakingdownof the conditionedhabits and re0exesthey had acquiredin the wild, but on the dawning recognition,in which ffust came before conthat they were amongtheir own kind. 'It is sciousness, only possible,'Singhwroter'if you ciln createa liking in them for the changeso desired.To createa liking means you must makethem understandthat you are their wellwisherand that you love them sincerely. . . their understandingturns then from aversionto friendliness.fu they grow in this knowledge,they grow in that relationshipof attachment.This knowledgeexpelsthe distrust, which alone standsas a great demon to destroythe incoming awakeningof all finer feelingsand thus cruelly blocksall doorsof learning.'e Notwithstandingthe ratherpompousnotehe sometimes soundedin committinghis refleaionson thc wolf children
to paper,asiftheir problemexistedchieflyfor hirn in tlr abstracqthere can be no doubt that the ReverendSingh wasgenuinelyconcernedfor their welfare.Although less intimatelyinvolvedthan his wife in the day-to-daytrids oftheir existence,hewasinterestedin their behaviourand developmentboth as an educationalistand as a priest. More than thaq he wasdeeplyaffectedby their presence at the orphanage.In spiteofwhat he knewoftheir past, and in spiteof seeingthemeverydayin his own house,he experienceda conscantfrustration of expecting these srnallwild+yed creaturesscurryingaroundon all fours in their dirty loin-cloths, so pathetically and sordidly estrangedfrom hurnanlife, to behavelike ordinarychildren. In a sensethey madehim feel inadequate,becausehr wantedto help them and waspowerlessto do so. It was pardy a questionof professionalpride: he wasa manwho in his dealingswith hadalwaysbeenparticularlysuccessful children.The orphanslovedhirq theycalledhim'Papa', they fearedand respectedhim; yet on Kamalaand Amah he couldhaveno suchrewardingeffect He hadevencome to believethat in somemysteriousway they dislikedhim, out of resentmcntfor havingtakenthem from the wild, for deprivingthem of the securitythey had known and of the affection they had no doubt receivedfrom the motherwolf, that 'noble animal' which he had failedto defendagainstttre arrows of the Lodhas. On occasion, seeingtheir regardfor the pet animalsof the orphanage andevenmoretheir afectionfor eechother,whichbecame evident in any attempt to separetethem and in the touching way they would cling togetherwhen frightened, he wonderedif he had done the right thing in bringing them back from the forest. Then he would tell himself that he hadhadno choice,that they werehumanchildren, possessed ofa soul like any others,and that it had been his duty asa manand a misionary to rescuethem,andhe would feel somewhatreassured;but evenas he watched and rejoicedin the slowpainful processof their recovery, n4
thenking God in His infinite wisdomfor showingthem mercy,he felt the pr€s€nceof a srrrallnaggingdoubt.
125
r9zr, Amalazuddenlyfell ill. It begarq Or 4 September like any number of tropical diseaseqwith explosive tlierrhoea"turning within a couple of days - by then Kamalahadalsobeeninfected- to mild dysentery,which especially wasecommonenoughcomphintattheorphanage the rainy year, end of that time of the the unhealthy at gave their no cause for anxiety, At first condition s€ason. though the businessof looking after them waspeculiarly difficult. 'They were boisterousand excited at a litde thing. They becamepeevishandirritated at the leastttring whichwasagainsttheir wish.They wouldnot allowenyonc to go nqlr them, or to do anythingfor them.At first when they had srength to resist,they behavedin a ferocious rnanner.They wouldtry to frightenmeandevenmy wife.'lo Then fever set in and their resistanceevaporated.They allowedthernselvesto be nursedby Mrs Singh and for the fust time in their lives could even be kept in bed, albeit in a crouchedpositionwith their lnees bent up to their chins.But, astheygrewsteadilyweakerwith frequent convulsionsand palpitationsof the heart,it becameclear that the illness was more seriousthan anyonehad suspected.On the eveningof rr Septemberthe Reverend Singh, now thoroughlyalarmedby the girls' condition, which had deterioratedin the last day or two, droveinto town to fetch Dr Sarbadhicari,the family physician.A frequentvisitorto'The Home',bothon socialandmedical ca\ SachinSarbadhicarihad alreadyhad oppornrnityto observeandevenexaminethe wolf children; but, knowing him to be an inveterategossip,the padrehad not taken him into his confidenceabout their background,sticking to his story,in spiteof the doctor'sprovokingscepticism, ttrat he only knewthem to be the depriveddaughtersofa mendicantfalir. Wheneverpossiblehe saw to it that Karnalaand Amalawerenot aroundwhenhe called.
As he mountedthe wrought-iron spiral steircasethat rose up from the grand colonnadedante-roomof the Sarbadhicarimansion,wherethe doctorheld his surgery open to the noise and dust of Midnapore's busiest thoroughfare,and emergedamong the greeneryof a clutteredroof garden,the ReverendSingh thought carefully about what he shouldsayto persuadethe doctorto comebackwith him at oncewithout revealinghis secret. He wondered,too, if his relucanceto sendfor him sooner might not haveaffectedKamala'sandAmala'schances of recov€ry.At the start of their illnesshe had takenthemin the back of the ton-tom to visit Dr Sengupa,a genenl practitionerwho lived out at Chidmarshaion the otler sideof town. After examiningthe childrenwherethey lay in the cart, he had prescribedthe ordinaryfteatmentfor dysenterywithout askingany awkwardquestions;but, as a doctor, Singh had more confidencein SachinSarbadhicari. Finding him in bed, for it was already late, he finally said no more than that fwo of his orphans were seriously ill and needed his help. The doctor egreedto come and the two men set out at once for Tantigoria. When he hadcompletedhis examinationof tlre patients, however,Dr Sarbadhicariinsistedon beingtold the true storyofhow theywerefoundandwhatwerethe conditions of their earlier life, claimingthat without that knowledge he would be unableto treat them.A heavy,mousachioed figure, with the bluff gentility of a high-caste,anglicized Indian, the doctor could on occasionbe formidably determined.After prevaricatinguselesslnthe Reverend Singh, who wasunaccustomed to steppingdown in any confrontation,retfuedfrom the sick-roomto consultwith hh wife. Believingthat Kamalaand Amalanow had little hope of recovery,Mrs Singh tearfully urged him to tell the doctor anything hs wmted to know, sincethere was no longerany point in concealingit. They camebackinto the room together,and with the earnestrequestthat he
r27
should respect their confidence, the padre reluctantly recounted the wolf children's ragic history, but in a censoredform. Through the suddenfear ofexposure that would cast him, a missionary priest of the Christian faith, at a time of Hindu nationalist fervour, in the role of the cruel hunter, who had torn these children ofnature from the breast of a dying she-wolf (the blood of which it was a crime to shed), he thought it best to leave out the part that he and his railway friends, Roseand Richards,had played in the affair and attributed the capture ofthe girls to the Santals. It was an easy and apparently harmless lie, told no doubt on the spur of the momentl yet it was to have serious repercussions, and although Singh would always believe that he was protecting the truth, rather than disguising or distorting it - for in India it is religious truth that matters finally - it would ultimately ensnare him in falsehood. Apart from this one omission, which he knewcould have no bearing on the pr€sent condition of the two girls, he told the doctor all that he knew about their past life and gave an account of what progress they had made since they had been at the orphanage.Dr Sarbadhicarilistened with an air of grave interest and, after asking a number of questions with reassuringly professional detachmeng concentrating on the details of Kamala and Amala's dieary and excretory habits as furnished by Mrs Singh, announced his intention to worm the children. Ever since their capture they had suffered intermittently from worms, first picked up presumably from the wolves and perhaps fostered by their associationwith the orphanage dogs. Dr Sarbadhicari thought it might also have to do with an occasionaland very peculiar habit, which they could not be persuadedto give up, of swallowingquantities of earth and pebblesusually just after eating or before defecating. The Reverend Singh attempted to explain the phenomenon: one of his hunting companions had told him that leopards, tigers and other carnivores sometimes ate sand
and smallstonesto help grind up the food in theit stonr-" achs,and he preumed that Kamalaand Amalahadeither lcarnt the trick from the wolvesor had happenedon it throughthe needfor an aid to digestion.Dr Sarbadhicari sarvno reasonto disagree,but found it hard to acceptthat the children'sdigestivesystemcouldhaveadaptedto such an alien regimen,and even more remarkablethat they He was had not succumbedsoonerto parasitesor disease. not at all optimistic about their chancesnow of zuwival, but prescribed nonethelessa number of medicinesto control the feverand dysenteryand recommended dosing with sulphur powder to dealwith the worrns.fu for diet he advisedMrs Singh to continue giving them barley water,whichfor the momentwasall they would take,and urgedher to keepthem warm.Apart from that there was nothing to be doneexceptwait and trust in God. Unfortunatelyno detailedrecordexistsof the medicel treatmentthe wolf children receivedduring their illness, but it would probably reveal that the fairly primitive methodsavailableto an Indian doctor in a small Bengal country town, appliedto a uniquelycomplexand delicate case,did more harm than good. The day following Dr Sarbadhicari's visit, afterbeingdosedwithsulphurpowder, the childrenexpelledalasgemrmberof roundworms,'six incheslong, red in colour, as thick as the litde finger of the hand,and almostall of them ilive'.ll It washardly a sight to inspireoptimism,yet it occurredto the Reverend Singhashe watchedthesemonstrousparasitesleavingthe weakand wastingbodiesof their child-hosts,tlat in some qay th€y canied with them all the foulnessof Kamala and Amala'sanimal naturesand that if they recoveredit would surelybc to beginlife anewas humanbeings.But his hopeswereshort-lived. The sulphurhad zuccessfully exorcizedthe worms,but in all probability it had had a harmful side effect on Amala'skidneys,for shewasalsozufferingfrom nephritis: At the sametime the fever and dysenterypersistedand, ra8
r2g
despitethe corutant attentionof Mrs Singh.andfurther visits from the doctor, the children becamegradually weaker.'They were unconsciou.qcold and motionlesg only iust breathinga litde, to permit us to perceivethat they wereliving. They iust openedtheir mouthswhenthe spooncontainingsomedrink or medicinetouchedtheir lips. The doctor could not give us any hope at all. Our only help w:ls prayer, and we had recourseto it conthemto theLord Jezus,theLover stantlyandcommended of children.'12 On 15 Septemberin the early hours of the morning Amala'stemperaturesankto a dangerouslylow leveland it seemedcertaintlrat she wasgoing to die. All day Mrs Singhsatby her bedside,watchingthe tiny erpressionless face,palenow with anaemia,for somesign of revivaland every now and tlen vainly holding a spoonfulof barley waterto her lips. Beneaththe blankether emaciatedbody wasbeginningto swellto the distortionsof dropsycaused by the malfunctionof her kidneys.A stick of incenseto puri$ the air burned fitfully from a holder by the door, giving off a sweet,cloyingscentthst mingledhorribly with the feculentstenchof her sickness.Kamala,whosecondition wasnot yet critical, hadbeenmovedto an adjoining room,wherethe otherorphans,teachersandservantswere madeto visit in small groupsand offer prayer$for both children's recovery.later that morning Amala rallied a litde, her temperatureroseand remainedhigh for the rest of the day, giving somecausefor hope, but alreadyby eveningit had begunto sink ag:ain. Since morning the oppressivesilencethat hung over the orphanagehad beendisturbedfrom time to time by the disant clamourof crowdsturning out at the stationto welcomeGandhi on his first visit to Midnaporeand later paradingtheir Mahatmathroughthe streetsof the town to concertedcries of 'Gandhi4i iai' and the blowing of conch shells. The mournful sound of these traditiond Hindu uumpets was carried on the eveningbreezethat
blew in acrossthe plainsfrom the bayofBengalandfrom the centreoftown reachedthe ReverendSingh'searsiu; he walked the dogs in the darkeningfield behind the house.In his confusionofsorrow for the dying child and outrage that the District Magisftate and the Municipality should have allowed Gandhi's visit (and, as fate haddecreed, on such d"r, it seemed to him thathe was " orisonnor only listeningto the funeral of the wolf girl but of India itself, Amala held on to life for anotherfive daysand then died without regainingconsciousness on the morning of Wednesdayzr September.In the last daysof her illness, Kamala the elder wolf child, who had more or less recoveredand could no longerbe kept in bed or separate &om Amala"had unconcernedlyjoined Mrs Singh'svigil at her side.On the morningof Amala'sdeathshedid not appearto noticeat first that anythingwaswrong,but later on when left unguardedfor a few moments.she was found interferingwith the corpse,touchingit in a peculiar n?1' tryrlC to pull it olf the bed. .Finding her meddling with the bodyin this fashion,we dissuaded her by coaxing her to cometo anotherroom. Shedid not staytherelong and cameback to Amala. ilIrs Singh followed her and kept a strict watch without letting her know. When Kamala found Amala did not get up and did not even move,sheleft her sideand movedawayto her own bed. fiis sherepeatedthe wholedayuntil Amalawasremoved for burial.'l3Whenthe time camefor the coffinto be taken out to the ReverendSingh'stum-tnrtwhich wasro serve es a hearse,Kamalahad to be forcibly separatedfrorn it and,althoughthe setofher featuresberayedno kind of emotion,the ReverendSingh believedthaishe w:rsnonF thelessdeeplyaffected.He claimedthat sheshedtearsfor the first time in her life af her companion'sdeparture,but he may have been allowing his own sensibilitiesto run eway with him when he wrote that ,only two drops of tearsfell from Kamala'seyes,andno changeofexpression r3o
was noticeable on the face to ma.keone undersand tbat Kamala was actually weeping'.xa The Reverend Singh had baptized Amala shortly before she died by the name meaning'yellow flower', which his wife had given her on her arrival at the orphanage. In &e afternoon of that same day with the rain torrenting down from dark, miry skies, she was buried in an unkempt corner of St John's churchyard under a banyan tree. It was of some comfort to those mourners who were familiar with her story to know that whereas she might have died in the forest as something less than a heathen to be devoured by the hyenas and jackals, she was here being consigned a Christian to consecratedground. She was to lie in the august company of English officials of the East India Company, whose once elegant memorials, now the uumbling, whitened perches of crows and mynah birds, stood close by her final resting place. Rain had filled Amala's grave - the mali had dug it several days too soon on a false alarm - and the small coffin had to be pushed down to displace the red muddy water on which it was in danger of floating. The bedraggled congregation, their soddendhotisclinging transparently to their brown shanks, consisted mostly of the orphanagechildren and a few old parishionerswho lived near the church and came'to every service. Together they stood in the downpour and sang out of tune in endlessly practised, misphrased English the perfecdy cadenced sentencesof the Twentl-Third Psalm. As the coffin subsided in the water, the Reverend Singh, with his servant standing behind him holding a large black 'Man umbrella over his head, read from the prayer book: that is born of a woman hath but a short time to live. He cometh up, and is cut down, Iike a flower; he fleeth as it were a shadow,and never continueth in one stay.tlsAnd with this vague, scarcely intended allusion to the reincarnation of the spirit, the body of the wolf child was committed to the ground.
ChapterSix
At the time I must have been eleven or twelve, I suppose Naturally, when I heardebout this Sld I wantedto go and see for myself. Everyonewas alking about her in the town - it wasthe weekafter the youngef,onehad died - and wheopeople first went to see her they wanted to know whether *te was literally halfwolf or humanlike us. There wasquite a host of peoplethere. I remernberwestood in the compoundof the RevercndSingh's houseand the child waskept on the veranda,Peoplewerenot allowedto touch her or throw food at her, assometried to do. Shewent on all fours and crawledon her elbowsand kneesbut could not stand; nc could shespeak,thoughshemadestrangesoundsthat werenot really like words. She was quite ferociouswith darting eyes, and gaveoff a strong smell tike an animal. We heardhow slre wascapturedfrom wolvesin the iungle and that the Reverend Singh used to feed her on raw meat as she would not tale ordinary food. She seernedfrightened by the crowd and tried to hide behiud the pillars. SurendraMohan Dey, Midnapore, 1975. On the day after the funeral a crowd gathered outside the gatesof the Word was s€nt into the house *rat they had come to see the surviving wolf child. This time ttrere was no question of turning them away with tle story of the mendicant fakir's daughters, or even a llat denial; the Reverend Singh already knew from his own sources that Dr Sarbadhicari had broken his promise; instead, he told the crowd that for the moment Kamala was too ill to receive visitors (which vas true enough) and promised he would let them seeher as soon as she hed recorrcred.With
r33
that assurance reluctandythey dispersed,but the n€xt day and every day following they cameback again in even greaternumbers.The orphanagenow entereda stateof siege;the gateswere kept permanentlyclosedand padlocked;childrenwerenot allowedin the front part of the gardenand servantssrrictly forbidden from fraternizing with the ctowd. fu the tensionmounted,the Reverend Singh'stempergxewshorter:time andagainhe hadto be restrainedby his wife either from driving into town and having it out with Dr Sarbadhicarior from venting hb angeron the crowd at the gates.Shebeggedhim to considerhow fortunatethey had beento keeptheir secretfor as long as they had, and ttrat it wasinevitablein a smell town like Midnaporethat the newswould eventuallyleak out. There wereotherg after all, besidesDr Sarbadhicari, who had seen the children - servants,parishionerg the Brothersof the Poor,his friends visiting missionaries, to the Raiah and hunting companionsftom Mr Woodg:ate of Narajole,and evenif they had not beentold the story of dre rescue(though there may havebeenexceptions)' many had shown enoughinterest in their peculiar be haviour to takeseriouslythe rumoursaboutwolf children that circulated the bazaars.Then there was also the possibility that Rosc and Richards in Kharagpur had alked. By implication, Mts Singh suggestedthat her husbandhadperhapsbeenwrongeverto lie aboutthe wolf children, evenif it wasonly to protect them, and that it would be better now to let peopleseeKamalaand tell them the truth. Then in time the noveltywould wearoff and they would leaveher alone.Although he wasbound to agreewith his wife, in his presentstateof mind the ReverendSingb could not brook eventhe most tentative criticism. He refusedto capitulate,as he saw it, to the hordesof sensationseekerswho weredeterminedto ruin any chancethat Kamalahad of everleadinga normallife. He even spokc of the blight on her marriageprospects and by extensim on tlre reputetionof all the girls in his
orphanage.But in the end he calmed down sufficiendy to look for the will of God in all that had happened instead ofrailing againstfate and the treachery ofDr Sarbadhicari, and to recognizethat tlere wasnothing to be done now but to open their gates to the curious. On r October the crowds were finally admitted. Kamala, who had spent the week since Amala died sitting in her corner in an abiect, trance-like state that verged on the catatonic, was led out crawling on hands and knees with a loose frock thrown over her for the sakeof modesty tfuough the prayer room and on to the veranda" where she was exposedto the bewildering scrutiny of a hundred pairs of eyes. Her initial reaction was to try to run awaS but Mrs Singh held on to her, while the padre told her story and briefly answeredquestions before asking the audience to have pity and allow her to go back inside. In the circumstancesan appeal to compassionwas wasted breath and the excited but dissatisfiedcrowd had to be held back by the orphanage servants as Kamala and her guardians reffeated into the house. The Reverend Singh rerurned immediately and with little concessionto politenessinvited all to leave the compound, but no sooner had they gone tlran the mali cameinto the house to report that a second crowd had gathered and were waiting outside the gates, clamouring to see the wolf child. By evening Kamala had been exhibited at least four times. On the next day the crowds were worse and not only were they alarming Kamala - there was always someone who tried to touch her or feed her or even poke her with a stick to make her fierce - but they were tramping all over the garden and disrupting the work and routine ofthe orphanage.It was too late now to go back,but asa way ofreducing the impact the Reverend Singh establishedregular visiting hours, which though reminiscent of feeding time at the Calcutta 7-oo, mrde it easier to control the invasion which 'The Home'would have to put up with for weeks and even months to come.
t34
r3S
As well asthe ordinarypeopleof the town who cameto seetlle wolf child at the appointedtimes,therewerethose who - whether they counted themselvesfriends and relativesof the family, or membersof the Europeencommunity,or belongingto the higherechelons of Midnapore society- wishedto havea moreexclusiveview of Kamala. Very often they causedmore trouble and inconvenience than the regular visitors, but it would have been very difficult for the padre to refusetheir requests;though Kamalaherself,as Singhpointedout, couldbe lessthan cooperative.'When any visitors came- we wereinfested with thesecuriouspeople- andinsistedon seeingKamala, shewould behavein a mostpeculiarfashion.The visitors weretakento the dormitory. Kamalaat theh sight would draw herselfcloseinto her cornerand would not look at any side. She took care at the sametime that no one approachedher or touchedher. Once a lady wantedto comenear her but to her great surpriseshe showedher teeth and madea chatteringnoise with her teeth. This frightenedthe lady and shedrewback.'l For severalweeksafter Amala'sdeathKamalaremained moroseand unapproachable. When not ensconcedin her corneror on showto visitors- eventuallythey becamean acceptedfeature of life at the orphanage,though the ReverendSingh would alwaysresent their importunity and blame them for Kamala's decline - she wandered aboutthe orphanagequadrangleas iflooking for her lost companion, smellingtheplaceswheresheusedto frequeng the dishesthat sheate from, the bed whereshehad lain durrng her illness. If allowedto, she carried her search into the garden,ceaselessly roaming around under the treesuttering a peculiarrepetitivecry, or remainingin one placefor hoursat a time, often sitting out in the hot 2n, which madeher pant, and refusingto comeinsidein spite of Mrs Singh'sentreaties.After dark she wasconstantly on the prowl in and aboutthe courtyard,Iookingfor ways of escape,aswild and resdessassheand Amalahad been
t,
in the earliestdays of their ceptivity. Artd for the first time sincethe end of summerthe shrill whining notesof her attemptedhowl wereheardagain,i"r.ing on the still Octobernights.Keepingher under closeobservation,the Singhs beganto worry that with the return of her old ferociousnature she would lapse into idiocy. Limited though they were,shehad givenup all her former interests and associations;when hungry or thirsty, she no longercameto the placewheresheknew food and drink were kept, and without Amala to lead the way seldom approachedMrs Singh for any r€asonat all. What little progressshehadmadesinceshehadbeenat the orphanage seemedcertainto be losu The ReverendSingh had alreadybegunto despairof her recovery,when her chancesin his view were further darnaged by the publication,on z4 October,of 'her story' n rheMelinipu Hhaishi,the localvernacularnewspaper. responsible, The article,for whichheheldDr Sarbadhicari wesa brief but garbledeccountof the censoredstory he had givenhim at the time of the children'sillness.It was full of mistakes,which includedmakingthe fosteranimals tigers, putting the rescueof the children a year earlier than it happenedand getting his own namewrong. The only consolationlay in the final paragraph,which offered 'innumerablethanksto ReverendSingh for his kindness. He hastlus gatheredmanyorphansand hasrearedthem with affection. Many people f€spect Christians, particularlymissionaries, because of zuchqualities.'2No doubt he was able to recognizein this Kamala's undoubted potential for Christian propaganda"but for the moment he was more concernedwith the advefseefects of such publicity. It was what he had fearedall along and he elpectednow a continuousstreamofvisitors. There was also the possibility of the story being taken up by the nationalpress.Fortunately,owing to the poor standingin the large cities of Indian provincial iournalism, it was either overlookedor disregarded;an4 dthough the story 136
rn
spr€adlocally and the crowdskept coming,the situatioo did not get out of hand.But if the Hitaishi article did not €xposeKamalato the unbearablelevelof persecutionthat the ReverendSingh believedit would, her predicament remainednext to hopeless. When all their old ploys to encourageher to associate with themhadfailed,the padrehadthe ideaof concentrating on Kamala'sdaily massage,which she still allowed Mrs Singh to give her and was now the only point of contact between them. The period of mas$rgewas lengthenedand repeatedmorning and evening. With a gentle but strong, sure touch Mrs Singh worked over everyinch ofher body, from under her eyebrowsto the solesof her feet, paylng specialattentionto thoselimbs and muscleswhich had beenafected by her yearsspent with the wolves.'Crreatque wastakento straightenthe kneeioints, andthe ankleioints by constantlight rubbing, twisting with the applicationof mustardoil and gende ierkitrg. The cirsulation of the blood in thoseparts was improved.In the samewaythe musclesin the arms,thighs and the calvesweretreatedso asto strengthentfie nerves gradually,EThe sessionwent on for as long as Kamala would put up with it, but the momentshe showedany sign of tiring or irriation Mrs Singh would moveon to anotherpart of the bodyor stopaltogether.While shewas giving the russage she would alk. to her all the time, reassuringher with endearments,'expressedin the moct loving termspossible'. After a weekor two it wasthought that the treatment was beginning to have some effect. Kamala no longet seemedto resentl\[rs Singh approachingher and of her own accordhad begunassociatingoncemore with mme of the orphanageanimals.Shebegancrawlingto the kids and sitting among them, sometimesholding one and stroking it rather roughly with her hand. She was even heardtrying to talk to them,pratdingawaylike a baby- a deparnrrewhich the Singhs regardedas significantand
___-------
encouraging. But a problemarosewhenKamalabecameso attachedto the kids that she hatedto be separatedfrom them.After theyhad beentakenout to pasturein the field shewould leaveher cornereveryfive minutesthroughout the dayto seeifthey hadcomeback.In their absence she tried less successfrrllyto take up with chickensas sub. stitute companions.'Noticed at twelveo'clockon€ oorning to enter the fowl houseand remainthere. But fowls racedout through fearand never camein so long as she remainedthere. Even the fowls who were broodingleft their eggsand remainedoutsidethe housemovingabout lgt 1ot enteringat all. The fowls shunnedher company. Noticed her followinga fowl in the gardenfrom one end 9{ the courryardto anotheraimlessly,simply follorrying.'+ She would stalk a group of hens and as soon as they scatteredin an explosionof squawls and wing-flapping shewouldpick oneout and go afterit, makingno auempt t9 catchthe bird but pursuingit.all day in spite of its obviousaversionto her. The orphanagecat, *hich she alsotried to makefriendswith, wasmoreresponsive to her advances and sometimesevenplayedwith her,boxingthe air with its paws, while Kamala used her hands and scratchedup the ground with her fingernails.Her most zuccessfulrelationship was with a hyena cub, which because of its closeresemblance to a wolf-cubtheReverend Singt had bought for her in the bazaar,in the hope of catchingher interest. The cub was not allowedto stay with her,only let out from time to time for heramusement. Theattachmentgrew quickly and seemedto be reciprocated:as soonasit wassetfree,the cub, an ugly scruft little animal with enormousears,camerunning to fini Kamalaand after the usual ceremonyof mouthJicking pawingand sniffing,tlrey would follow eachother about dl day.Whenthe hyenacub wasshurup in its cageagain et night shewouldcomeand sit by it for hoursat a time end sometimescould only be removedfrom the spot by force. Again there was a dangerof her associationwith r3B
r39
Enimalsbecomingtoo strong,but ageinelsoit wasproviding the physicalmeansof drawingKamalaout of herself. By the end of the year, through a combinationof Mrs Singh's massageand constant barrageof affection, as menageng well asthe lessavidattentionsof the orphanage she had regainedmost of the ground lost since Amala died. It would be sometime yet beforesheacquiredthe confidence in Mrs Singh which Amala had enjoyed,but despiteherselfKamalawasbeginningto dependon her. Oncemoreshewouldcometo her whenhungryandaccept foodfrom her hand.Sheshowednow lessdislikeofbeing touched,evenindicatingby gesture,pulling Mrs Singh's hand on to her chest,that she wantedto be massaged. Now, of her own accord,shewould approachMrs Singh when she was looking after ttre young children and sit near them, watchingeverythingthat was going on and pouncingon a toy that rolled or wasthrown occasionally her wayandrunningoffwith it in her mouthto chewit up in her corner.The extendedcrisis,broughtaboutby her illnessand Amala'sdeath,was finally over and Kamala had emergedfrom it a litde closerperhapsto the goals which her guardianshad set for her, asif the eruptionof and the lossof the lastconnectionwith her former disease life had had a cathartic effect. The ReverendSingh's observation on the round worms leaving the wolf children's bodies - that they were taking with them Kamala and Amala'senimal natures- had not been so far-fetched. and period of readjustKamala'slong convalescence ment in the closingmonthsof tgzt left her almostexclusively in Mrs Singh'scare.During the cold weatherher husband'stime was taken up by his parish work and missionaryenterprise. In November he had made a particularlyembitioustour of the iungletractsby bullock carg if only to keepup with the AmericanBaptistswho weremountinga fresh attackon the Santals,driving out
to the villagesin their new Ford motor qu (which was dways c€rtainto draw a crowd! armedwith flutes,autoharps and a magicrlanterrrfor stereopticonillustrated $ermons. Their medicine was ungtrestionably more powerful than his and there was a real dangerof their *a*ing a nuss movementamong the Santals,which would look very bad for the Anglicans. It made the ReverendSingh think of what the principal of Bishop's Collegehad said about the old style of religiousaddress of twenty yearsagohavingno powerany more.Nonetho. less,he refusedto believettrat God would allow money anda merelysuperiortechnologyto prevailovertheWord and with his bullock cart and Bible and the deepbooming voicethat hadtold the gospelto the darkestcornersofthe sal forests,he proudly perseveredin the simple but tnre waysof the early missionaries. Although it had beenhis intention to do so, he did not havetime on this trip to revisit the scenesof the captureof the wolf children; he madeinquiries here and there in casehe might turn up mme clue to their early history, but they yieldednothing new and he hurried back to Midnapore having'missed two weeks of protest and civil disturbancesover the partition of the district, but just in time to help Mr Cook, the magistrate,with the Church side of the town's preparationsfor the coming visit of H.R.H. The Prince of Wales. After Christmas,in spite of the recent troubles over rent collectionin the Ralshahidistricg which wereknown to havebeenstirred up by outsideagitatorsand regarded by manyas a manifestationof the new hostilespirit that had spreadthrough India since the Amritsar Massacre, the Midnapore Zamindari Company held its annual Boxing Day shootand this yearthe ReverendSingh saw no reasonnot to takepar! though he took more trouble than usualto be discreet.After the articlein theMedinipn Hhaishi,which mercifullyhad not mentionedhis hunting by publicity. r40 activities,he had becomeslightb obsessed
r+r
Two daysbeforeChristmashe hadcomeacro$ a headline rn the CalcuttaStatesman,wedgedbetweena report on the HighlandGamesat Invernessandanadvertisement for ThedaBarain ClelpatraattheChowringhee PictureHouse, which read: 'Two-year-old girl saved from iackals in Orissaforest.'5At first he thoughtit mustrefer to his own erperience,but it turned out to be a recentincidentwhere a jackal,rather than a wol4 had snatcheda child from a village in the jungle, bur fortunately had been killed before it could do th" grl any harrn It was merely a coincidence. Although he had madesuch efforts ro keep his story secretand shun publicity, Singh had himself written in his annualmissionaryreport, which he must haveknown wasliableto be publishedin the CalcuttaDiocesan Recordz 'It is pleasingto note in writing the report,oneuncommon insanceregardingtwo inmatesof this institution.Wemight mentionit hereand trust it will createan interestamong our friends,tlatwe haverescuedtwo wolf girls. . . secured from wolf-densby villagersin the iungle.'6His motivefor doing so is uncerain. Although it was not publishedin the Diocesan Recorduntil Decemberrg2r, it is possible thatat the time of writing both girls werestill alive,which would date the report earlier than the article in the MedinipurHitaishi, in which caseit is unlikelv that he includeda paragraphon the wolf children si*plv to set the recordstraightsincethe story hadnot yet t..n totea to the press.But perhapsa clue to his real motive lies in the final paragraphon rhe orphanage:.In bringing the report of the yearto a conclusionwo call attentionto our urgent financialneed in support of such an institution. We are afraid our claims will be overlooked,or passed unnoticed,as a cry in the wildernesgbut we feel it our duty to mentionit in our report and presentthe true state of rffairs.'?CertainlSmoneywirsnow in shortersupplyat 'The Home' than ever beforeand it seemsclear.ttret Singh was making use of the wolf children's story to
createan interesgnotso muchin themasin his orphanagg which would always take first place in his affections. During the summerhe had beengratefulto receivea visit of severaldays- in India it is a maxim that the guest confersthe favour - from a friend of his, the Reverend P. C. Webber,an itinerantmissionaryof the American EpiscopalChurch,whomhe had met with FatherBrown in his Oxford Mission days.Webberhad had a strong formative influence on his vocation and iir particular (includingrelativelylarge givenhim everyencouragement work at the orphanage;or an sums of money)with his elevated:'This worthy put most it, writing at his Singh greatman . . . this nobleand devoutperson. . . he, with a tremendousspiritual force and by his associationand pious .advices,actuatedme to proceedforward to my Lord's Vineyardto bring in the unbelievingsoulsto His Fold.'8 On this last visit ReverendWebber donatedthe funds.Thereis some zumof zz5 rupeesto the orphanage evidencetoo that Singhmayhavetold him then aboutthe wolf children; but whetherthe AmericanadvisedSingh' asotherswould do in time to come,to makecapitalout of the girls, both Christian propagandistand financial,can only be guessed at. Evenso,the apparentcontradictionin Singh'sattemptsto avoid publicity on the one hand and court it on the other, may not havebeenso out of character.In his view, therewaseverydifferencein the world between the Christian church-goersof Calcuta, who might be persuadedto senddonationsto the orphanage, crowdsof Midnapore; but it and the sensation-seeking would have been very foolish to imaginethat once the story wasknowr5it could be kept to a particularcircuit. As it turned out it wasDr Sarbadhicariwho wasresponsible for the leak, but unlessSrnghdid in fact write his report after Amala'sdeath,it might just aswell havebeen himself.But whateverdid happen- andtherearea number ofpossible explanations- he wascarefulin his report to grveonly the briefestaccountof the wolf children'playing t42
down the more upsetting aspects of their behaviour and keeping his own part in the affair to a rninimum. At the end of December the Reverend Singh anived in Calcutta on Church businessto find the city given over to a round offestivities and celebrations for the Prince of Wales's visit, but taking place against a background of protest, civil disobedienceand political unrest. The fervour of the motley crowd on Chowringhee was equalled only by that ofthe durbaris, who thronged the receptionrooms of Government House and 'Belvedere' for the succession of State and 'dignity' balls, where the Viceroy's quadrille was corded of by members of his bodyguard holding silk ropes, and pressed on to the endless drawing rooms, courts and levees, to which everyone who was anyone had been invited and where, in the scramble to be presented, it was sometimes overlooked if an Indian was not wearing patent leather boots ofthe approved English pattern. Regulations of dress and etiquette, however, were of the strictest. The clergy in full canonicals with silver buckles at their knees and toes and each carrying his black cordecl silk three-cornered hat were well represented at every function, though only gazetted officers of the Ecclesiastical Department, earning salaries of 3oo rupeesor more, were invited to durbars, which eliminated ninety-nine per cent of the Indian clergy and by a very long mile the Reverend Singh. Not that he had come to Calcutta to take part in any celebration, but he had always had a weaknessfor pomp and circumstanceand being highly respectful of the authoriry which conferred such honour upon those of his colleagues who were eligiblq he was the more acutely aware of the distinction which barred him from their number. And yet, almost in spite of himself, on zuch occasionshe felt not resentment, but a sort of vicarious pride. His love of ceremony at least was requited, along with that ofcountless thousandsoflndians, by the opening of
the Victoria Memorial. The pageantry,fireworkdisplayq illuminationsand paradestook placeonrhemaidanttndq the protectionofadditionaluoopsbroughtin to Calcuta to takepart in the celebrations,but alsoto preventnouble shouldit threaren. Theywerecamped outsideFortwilliam on the banksof the Hooghly, watchedover in their turn by the city's ever-circlingkites,keeningfrom a greatheight for scrapsoffood, the leastmovementofa rat or rn"ke, or the unguardedremairuof a firneral pyre dou,non t}te ghats. -One afternoon the padre walked acrossthe maidan, which he had so often heardcomparedto Hyde park that althoughhe had only seenpicturesoflondon he felt he knew oneaswell as the other, makinga specialdetourto inspectthe different regiments,particularly the glorious SecondRajputg wirh which his family had long been connected.It was at times like these,when he naa teft behind-thesordid penny-pinchingworriesof the orpharr ageandall the petty routinesof his office,whenhis efforts to gospelizea corner of the suLcontinent seemedin_ significant and doomed to failure, that he sometimes regrettednot acceptinghis grandfather'slegacy.It would havetakenhim to his belovedEngland,whereno doubt he would havebeeneducatedat llaileybury Sandhursq evenOxford and returnedto India to be a high+anking soldieror rise through the lists of the I.C.S. to becomea iudge, even to reach the High C,ourtand win his ,K'. Brought down to earth by the sight of some sepoJs S9yi"g out sralechapattisto a raggedknot of b.;Cgu children, he was remindedof his duty, not onty to ihe Church,but to the work in Midnaporg which his gran& father had begunand he had chosento continue- auty " woif to his Sanals, to his mphans,evento Kamala"his child. Eversincehehadanived in Calcutta,despitethe excite ment overthe Princeof Wales'visit, he had bcenpressed by everyonefrom Bishq Westcottto his sister-in-lawfor t4r4
rpws ofthe wolf children. At first he had kept his account es t€rse and unrevealing as his report in the Dioccsan Record, which many of them had read, though not dl wished to believe. Yet they always wanted to know more and while he continued to beg his listeners to be discreet for Kamala's and the orphanage'ssake,he began rather to enioy being the centre of attention. Away from home he soon found it quite easy to be expansive, telling his story with a great deal of sympathy and not a little skill, so that in spite of his best intentions the tme account of the rescue sometimesslipped out However, like many of his countrymen, he was a ilun whose respect for the truth embraced the whole rather than its parts, and if he gaveout a number of slightly different versions of how the wolf children were captured, neither he nor those who herd him wete perticularly concerned. At least not for the present.
r45
Soon after his return to Midnapore in the early part of the New Year, the padre received a visit from Dr Sarbadhicari, who just happened to be passing as he put it, on his way to Gope. With half a dozen of his thirteen children in the back of his new motor car, which was always breaking dorvn in the most inconvenient places,he had stopped, this time intentionally, to leave his card and a request for the Reverend Singh to return a book in Bengali called Aidt to Agriculture, which he had lent him more than a year ago. But he was spotted by the padre and somewhat awkwardly invited in for tiffin. The two rnen had barely spoken to each other since their row over the publication of the 'wolf children' article in the Medinipur Hhaishi, but the frost which had blighted their relationship was quickly dispersed and the doctor, who had been temporarily suspended by Singh, was reinstated as physician to the family and the orphanage.It was a secret relief to both of them, for they enjoyed each other's company. Being of the same political persuasion and sharing a particular interest in farming and horticulture, tlrey liked to indulge
in long conversations, which might rangefrom the horo* scopesof cowsto the difficulties of growing an English lawn but alwaysendedup on the future of India. After they haddiscussed recentevenrsin Calcuta andthe significanceof Marconi's new wirelesscontact with Britain, Dr Sarbadhicaritactfully inquired after Kamala, and, given the opportunity to examineher, declaredhimself satisfiedwith her progress.But he felt unableto reconF mendany treatmentother than that they shouldcontinue to concentrateon weaningher on to a mixed diet and teachingher how to walk.He did, however,suggestaking her to seea specialistfriend of his in Calcuna,but the ReverendSingh, for reasonshe thought'polite not to mention,declinedthe ofer andexpressed confidencein his wife's and his own ability, under the doctor'szupervision, of course,to bring her graduallybackinto the humanfold. The doctor was obliged to agteeand having madethe householda conciliatory present of some green, looseekinnedoranges,which he just happenedto have with him, he herdedthe childrenbackinto the automobileand took his leave.Friendshipapart,with competitionhoaing up betweenthe Midnaporedoctorsandwith .homeopathy ground every day', the orphanageat 2 rupeesa {tli"g visit wasnot a negligiblepart of his practice. Money had also becomea necessaryconsiderationfor the,ReverendSingh where the wolf girl was concerned, and althoughhe would neverstoopto chargingpeopleto seeher,he did not discourage donationsfor the orphanage. On his recentvisit to Calcuta he hadaskedBishopWestcott to grant a specialsicknessallowancefor Kamala" whosedietaryand medicinalneedshe had madeout perhapsto be a little moreesotericandcostlythan they really were, but to his disappointmenthe had been refused. OT"g to a policy of belt-tighteningamongthe missionary societies,an inquiry wasgettingunderwayinto the working of orphanages, which somefelt were taking up more fundsthanthey wereworth in termsoftheir valueeeseed- r46
bedsof Ctrristianity.Qrestionshadbeenraisedat diocesan meetingswhetlrer orphans above school age were not being retainedand supportedlonger tlan necessary and whether in some orphanagesmentally and otherwise deficientchildrenmight not be hinderingthe development of others.Much of this seemed like a personalinsultto the ReverendSingh,who continuedto believeand frequendy assertedin his reportthat 'The Home' was'the central and essentialinstizution of our Missionary Zal and enterprise'. In a moment of self-pity he had seentfie Bishop'srefusalto help Kamalaasa threatnot only to her survival, but to the orphanage'sand even his own. Fortunatelythis ratherexcessive reactionwasshort-lived, but Singh was a rnan who found it easyto build on a gdevance,howeverslight, andin spiteof a specialmention laterthat yearinthe Diocesan Record,, which suggested that
r47
was 'difficult to overestimate the witness for Christ among non-Christians by such works as the Orphanage at Midnapore're he began to harbour the first rankling of resentmentagainst the ecclesiasticalestablishmentand a feeling of persecution,which would graduallydevelopuntil in old age it would almost overwhelm him. In the meantime Kamala survived without the benefit of a sickness allowance. Whether or not she could be turned into a useful Christian, there was no question o{ her holding back any of the other twenty-two inmates of .'The Home'. As far as the older children were concerned, she was something to be left alone, except when 'Papa' and 'Mama' Singh were not around, when they would sometimes dare each other to tease and poke her and try to make her angry. More often they would simply imitate her, as many of the children of the town were doing in their homes, by crawling about on all fours and making stange grimaces and unearthly noises. The younger children were more tolerant of her, but all treated her with the samesort of nervous respect they might have shown to an unreliable pony; and Kamala, for her part, ignored
I---
them except when there was a chanc€ of food being handedout. She spent more time than ever alone. Where once the Singhs had favoured her various friendships with animalsr they decided now that she was becoming too involved with them and removed the kids to their farmhouse. The hyene cub luckily died shortly afterwards. The orphanage dogs being shut up most ofthe day did not presenta problerq but she had to be aaivd discouragedfrom following the chickens. The Reverend Singh played on an aversion he had discoveredthat she had for pigeons, partiorlarly when they were flying. The zudden flumering of their winp startled her and secrned to make her afraid. He tried shutting her in a room with one or fwo pigeons and watcfring through the netted windows. ,When the pigeon canre near Kamala she got annoyed and would drive it awav bv ."iring her hand and making other gesruresto show that she did not like the pigeon or its company. She looked puzzled and at times astonished when it flew about in the room to get out.'r0 Any expression of dislite showed a growing power of discernmenq but finally all that he established was that she did not like pigeons; the chicken following continued whenever she got the chance. Deprived of her former companions,Kamala reverted to e state of morose aloofness. For a week or so the Singhs could do nothing to relieve her loneliness. Thw wanted her to turn to them in her own time, but when she showed no signs ofdoing so they were forced to take the initiative. They started a campaign, beginning again with Artrs Singh's daily massageand building their most determincd effort so far to bring her into the social life ofthe orphanagearound the long arduous+aqkofteaching her to stand and, hopefullg to walk on fwo feet. When Amala was fivq the Reverend Singh had tried various ways ofencouraging them to achieve an upright posture, including digdnt narrow holes in the ground into which they were introduced with great difficulty and left for an hour to nro to be
r4g
r#
literally moulded into shape; But the nerest he ever carne to achievingsuccesswas by holding on to their handsand raising them up like dogs to take a few faltering steps as he moved away from them - a trick Kamala was still made to perform for her visitors. Now everlthing she did, or had done to her, was turned whereverpossibleinto an exercise for standing. The level of her life was gradually raised off the floor so that if she wanted anything, in other words food, she had to reach up for it. There was litde hope of teaching her to stand the way one might a tweyear-old baby, since all her limbs, muscles and impulses were already adapted to another form of locomotion' But Mrs Singh wanted her to learn with the other children, and where they would try to stand to reacha plate of food held enticingly lust abovetheir heads,Kamala, like someof the babies who could only crawl, would rise up on to her knees' Mrs Singh deviseda number of little gamesto makeher stand on her knees as much as possible,and as long as food was the reward (preferably raw meat' though she would also take biscuits) Kamala cooperated- Sornetimes in the courseof one of these games,when the time came for the food to be handed out, Mrs Singh would make a 'would be pretence of having forgotten Kamala' who eagerly watching and waiting her turn after the babies' Aff oi a sudden Mrs Singh would turn round to find Kamala thus neglected, and with loving expressions excuse herself for not noticing her, and would hasten to raise her on to a stool and give her a quantity of all that shehad on her plate.'ll It wasa simple psychologicaltrick, if th" successiveemotionsof disappointbut effective; "odgratification did not shorv up very clearly and ment' relief on her face, Mrs Singh had no doubt that they had registered in her heart - or at least her stomach' By the end of February Kamala had no difficulty in sorriittg on her kneeswhenever she felt inclined' She did it especiallywell if somethingwasoffered to her, when she wouid immediately rise up with outstretched hand; but
also now, if she happened to stop when crawling along or going on all fours, she would as a matter of course go up on to her knees, and could even walk on them for a litde way. All the while her relationship with Mrs Singh and the other children was improving. She very rarely showed any sign of active dislike of their company now, but at the sametime there was no doubt that her toleration for them dependedalmost entirely on food. If Mrs Singh cameinto the room without the babies, for instance, Kamala would immediately begin to look for them and show her displeasure,for she had learnt that when the babies did not come, the plate with the biscuits and scrapsof meat did not come either. It was convenient from the point of view of teaching her by meansof food rewards that Kamala had a seemingly unlimited appetite, but at meal-times she often ate so much, bolting her food ravenously,that she made herself sjgk and all feeding(aswell as teaching)had to be stopped. Although her tasreswere becoming a little *or" ".tholi", she still much preferred uncooked meat to anlthing else. Once shewas found emerging from the lantana busheswith feathers and traces of blood around her lips and cheeks. Someone had seen her not long before running at full speed towards the bushes with a dead chicken in her mouth, but there was some doubt as to whether she had found it already dead or killed it herself. Another time she raided the meat safe, which had been left open by mistake, but only managedto sreala piece of dried salted fish and then dropped it on the way back to her corner. The Reverend Singh, thinking that she had let go of the fish accidenally or perhaps our of fear of being scolded, picked it up and took it to her but she refused even to look at it. Her dislike of salt remained as strong as ever. One marked improvement in her feeding habits was that, whereas before she would only eat from the ground by Iowering her head.to the dish, she could now stand on her knees'and eat in rhar position till the plate was finished,
r5o
r5r
using both her hands freely, raising them to her mouth. To remain in this position she needed some support in front to lean against, otherwise she could not stand on her knees for long, but having received a piece of food, she would go down on one hand.'l2 She was still unable, however, to lift a bowl or glassof milk to her lips and would always try to lap any liquid even if it was placed on a table. Most of the special games and exercises for Kamala" though organizedby Mrs Singh, were thought up by her husband, and some were quite ingenious. They wanted now to help her stretch and straighten her legs and finally stand on her feet. The padre had the idea of making a square of four benches laid out on the floor with a table in the middle like an island, on which a particularly exciting looking plate of titbits was left marooned.In order to reach the treasure the children (and hopefully Kamala) would have to lean up on one of the side benchesand, resting their weight partly on their bellies but also on their feet, stretch across the make-believe sea. But the benches had beenarrangedso that howeverhard they tried the children would fail simply becausethey were not tall enough. The first day of the experiment, Kamala watched the antics of children from her corner but made no attempt to take part. As soon as they got tired and lost interest, Mrs Singh rescued the treasure and distributed it among them, but leaving out Kamala. The next day the game was set up as before, only this time Mrs Singh left the room to observefrom outside the window. Again the children did their utmost to reach the plate but gave up almost immediatelS whereupon Kamala, who had been closely following all their movements, crawled out of her corner and first looking all around as if to make sure there was nobody watching, leant up on the bench and easily reached across to the island, straightening her knees and letting her weight fall back a litde on to her feet as she brought the plate back, spilling most of its contents. She ttren squaned down on the floor and consumetl everything
that was left, growling and looking fierce at any of the chil&en who tried to come near, but not bothering to chasethem away as she usually did. When she had finished she again looked all around her, but this time with an air of satisfaction. fu if to crown her achievement, she promptly seizedin her mouth a red doll from the children's toy basket- it was thought she preferred red as a colour * and ran offto her corner where she proceededto worry it like a dog with a bone. One evening in March, not long after the game with the bench square had become a regular exercise, Kamale was discovered in the garden playrng with the cat under the mango grove. Since the purge, she had not been allowed to spend time alone with the cat, the sole survivor among her friends; but instead of interrupting them straight away, the Reverend Singh waited and watched to seewhat they would get up to. Before long the cat climbed into the tree and Kamala, much to Singh's surprise since he knew she was unable to climb, tried to follow. She raised herself up on a low branch in the way she had learnt to do on the bench squareand rested her hips against it while supporting most of her weight orr her feet. From that moment the Singhs felt convinced that Kamala would end up by learning how to walk. Her relationship with the cat was once more approved; when it failed in its duty of inducing her to ride the branch, the Reverend Singh would place some mear a little higher in the tree as an alternativebait; or else he would pick up the cat and suspend it by its two front paws from a branch while Kamala watched from a little way off, After some time she learnt to hang from the branch by her hands and even to swing herself to and fro. Always ready to take things a stage further, tJre padre had a proper swing put up under another tree for Kamala and the orphans, but although the other children learnr to enjoy it, Kamala for some reason refused to have anything to do with it. In the meantime the Reverend Singh had devisedsome
rS2
r53
mor€ advanoed standing exercises, which became pre gressively harder as the level at which she received her reward was raised inch by inch. In one of the rooms he had fixed up an adjusable wall brackeg which Kamale could use to rest on while she tried to reach a plate offood suspended tantalizingly iust above her head. The plate was held in a rope sling, which hung from the ceiling and could be lowered or raised. However, the least touch sent it sailing away from her, so that it was almost impossible for her to get at its contents unless she was supporting her whole body on her feet in a balanced position. The exercises were repeated again and again until eventually slre succeeded.Then the wall bracket, which had helped her to stand, was removed: 'Kamala had to get tlte hansitrg plate by leaning against the bare wall. She failed to get th€ plate. The plate was left there all the time, and Kamale remained busy the whole day trying to tackle the plate but failed every time, Sometimes when she missed the plate, shecamedown to the ground, dropping on to her hands.'l3 The exercisewas temporarily abandoned,but some time later Kamala was seen to go out alone to the children's swing in the garden and examine it, carefully pushing it so that it would swing to and fro and then trying to catch it as it went away from her. But she always missed. In the end she gave up and fell back despondently on her hunkers, a tiny brown and white figure motionlessin the fetid shade of the mango tope. It was a particularly hot and unhealthy summer that year and, although for once the rains cilme on time, breaking with a sudden violent storm on the eveningof 4 June after a long period ofdrought, they brought reliefonly to frayed hot weather tempers - too late already to make up for the damage to the desiccated paddy fields. L&, nonetheless, began to renew itself with alt its swarming enthusiasm.In Midnapore town, as so often happenedat the start of the rains the flood of water that swept through the open drains and festering street se\{ers turned a
minor outbreak of cholera into the threat of an epidemic. The District Magisnate called a meeting of the town doctors to discuss emergency m@slues, which all knew would avail nothing: it was merely a question ofprocedure. Dr Sarbadhicari came out to the orphanage and advised that routine precautions be taken with food and water, but there they had the advantage of being isolated from the main sources of infection. By the end of June the number of deathshad fallen offand thedangerwasdeclared past. The weather, however, continued unhealthy, for now it was the rain rather than the sun that beat remorselesslyupon the nervesand through depression,exhaustion or loss of temper, predisposedits victims to disease,as it clattered incessantly through the leaves of the trees and roared against tin roofs, and hammered the spattered earth into a livid green. Between showers,the humidity, mildew, snakesand flying ants were added irriations and made the heat still more unbearable. But while others weltered in perpetual discomfort and poured with sweat, the Reverend Singh noted that the wolf child's body remainedas dry and cold to the touch as a stone. In his office, the Reverend Singh was kept cool by a punkah. Suspendedfrom the ceiling by ropes it consisted of a long pole, almost the width of the room, to which was attached a strip of matting and another rope, which passedthrough a hole in the lintel of the door and was pulled and let go alternately by the punkah-wallah who sat outside on the veranda.The punkah-wallah,however, like all the ReverendSingh's seryants,wasreally one of the church-bearers- in most parishes it was the erpected thing for these Government-paid servants to be taken in to the padre's household - and his church duties were meant to take priority over any other, which gave him a certain bargaining power. As a result the punkah in the Reverend Singh's office frequently stood still, but the systemofropes could also be arrangedso that the contraption could be operated from inside the room and some-
r54
times,whenit wasvery hot, the orphanagechildrenwere recruitedto pull the punkah for short spells.On one of tlese occasionsin early August Kamalahappenedto be present. Severalchildrenwereplayingin the office,viz. Beniamin, Pachu,Bhuluand Saila.They wereplayingin the roomand sometimes pulling the punkah rope that was hanging Kamala was sitting in one corner, watching them at times butremaining quite iructive. After some time, the children left the room and Kamala alone remained where she was. All on a sudden I felt tlre punkah breeze.I looked behind and found Kamala pulling the rope. I did not say anything . . . The clock hung in front of me. It was eight o'clock in the morning. She pulled from eight to eight-fifteen continuously, and then stopped to leave the room. From this date I noticed occasionally that whenever she entered the room she always looked at the punkah and always had a pull whenever she liked. This dury was not imposed on her but she did it herself. This was the only frolic she indulged in.1{
r55
It was also her first independent achievement,the more remarkableperhapsbecauseshe had not yet learnt to walk or even stand properly, but there can be little doubt that the ReverendSingh exaggeratedsomewhather prowesset punkah-pulling. As often as not she would simply sit and twist the rope instead of pulling it, and when asked to perform, would inevitably let go of it all together,but the important thing was that she discovered this game for herselfand without the hope ofa reward. In that sensethe padre was justified in describingit as a'frolic'. However, when Kamala made progress in any direction, the Singhs had learnt to expect a setback somewhereelse. It seemed to them sometimes that she did it almost deliberateln as if she was trying to express a general resentmentat being draggedfrom the animal world into the human, by reverting sharply to the animal. But a more likely explanation was that at times of stress she merelv found comfort in the laws and habits of her old
existence - the more poignandy beceusethere were sigru now in everything she did that she went€d to zucceedand that when she slipped back it was always in spite of herself. After her aiumph with the punkah, there followed a period when Kamala would no longer eat with her handg but insisted on taking her plate and putting it down on the ground and eating once again like an animal. Then came a minor success with the garden swing, which she was persuadedto sit on for a short sessionand which she seemedto enioy; but two days later there were repercussions. It happened when the Reverend Singh was taking her for her morning walk on the maidan behind the house. They came acrossthe carcassof a cow, surrounded by vultures. Someof the birds had alreadyenteredthe cow's stomach and were picking greedily at its entrails, while others stood around in an ugly circle, hunch-neckedand squabbling among themselvesfor position. Still others were turning in the air abovethe carcass,swoopinglower and lower then planing down on a steep incline of air to the ground, their stiff primary wing feathers rattling with dre velocity of descentas they stretched their wings to the firll extent to break their landing. It was a common enough sight i" the Bengal countryside, but one which never failed to inspire the Reverend Singh with horror and disgost. Thinking of himself as much as his companion, who was raising her nose to the parallel and sniffing the air in a tentative way, he gavethe carcassa wide berth. But too late: 'Although I avoided the path by it, yet I found that Kamala, after coming away for a short distance, all on a suddenmade for the carcasson all fours in hot haste. She did not listen to me shouting by her name and calling her back. She disobeyedand quickly landed at the place. She commenced chasing the vultures to clear her path to the carcassand at once caught hold of the bone by her mouth, and beganto bite at ths meat.'rs Amazed by her omplete lack of fear of the vultures, which stood taller
r56
at the shoulder than she did, and by the practised way in which she drove them o{ the Revirend'sirrgh ,- up * her and tried to separateher from the carca.Js..At first I tried to persuadeher to come away but when I found she would not come then I had to drag her by the hand and thus bring her back home with great difficulry. She came with me and occasionallylooked Lackin the samedirection where the carcasstay. She had got a bite or two at the meat and came away chewing and munching and wiping her lips with her tongue.'r6 Some days later orireof the children came to the Reverend Singh in his office and reported that Kamala had beenseendragginga huge bone by her mouth through the tr9lSe thar separatedthe garden compound from lnt1ni the field. He went out to investigateand found her with the samecarcassinside the compoundunder &etushy lyceeand mangotreesin the garden.Sire wasbitirg at the meat sticking to the bone. She was ar tums rubbing a particular pieceof bone to separatethe meat from it. When I qlme near her she paid no heedto my presence,but went on in_her own way. I stood for sometime-and then caughthold of tl.recarcassat the other end and draggedit towardsme. She did not like it, gavea peculiargrowi and lookedat me with all her ferocious attitude. I managedto remove the carcassas soon as she raised her head. She camejumping toqrardsthe carcassand me. I showeda stick and bore the attitude of striking her if sheclme nsu. She left the placeslowly and sat at a little distance.l? The carcasswas disposed of by the servants. After debating whether he should puniih her, the Reverend Singh finally decidedagainstit and the incident wasclosed. A week later she was found sitting on the rubbish dump eatingthe remainsof a chicken,bui againit wasimpossible to tell from the look that concentratedher small and sometimes almost pretty featureswhether she was consciousof having done wrong.
ChapterSeven
The compound lay parched and deserted, undisturbed by a breath of wind or any sign of life other than the occasionalbright wing-flash of a scarlet minivet leaving the pale tasselledblossomsof a convohrlus creepertrembling where it had dipped back into a pool of shade.It was early afternoonon 17 April 1923.The sun, still holding position directly overhead,a small vivid circle ofincandescencein a burning white skg had driven everyone indoors and the windows of 'The Home' were shuttered for the restperiod to keep out the heat. A faint scent ofcharcoal and cow-dung smoke from the lunchtime cooking fires hung about the courtyard still, It was obliterateda moment later by a more acrid smell of burning. Fire had broken out in the orphanage kitchens. It spread quickly by the thatched roofs along the wesr wing to where Mrs Singh had her quarters next to the girls' dormitory. Fortunately the alarm was given and everyone evacuated in time. The children, including Kamala, were taken into the garden by one of the teachers, while the Reverend Singh and rhe servanrs did their best to fight the fire with buckets of water drawn from the well in the courtyard. But their efforts made little difference and the whole of the west wing was razed to the ground in a very short time. Only the heat of the day and complete absenceof wind prevented the fire spreading to the main part of the building. Even so the damagewas considerable, estimatedby Singh in a letter to his bishop at 3ooorupees, which was perhaps on the generousside, but the padre was never one to make light of a disaster, especially where
r59
financial considerations were involved. He felt the loss more keenly becausehe had built the west wing hinself and with money from his wife's dowry. But poking over the charred rubble a few days later he allowed himself to take heart from a Bengali saying, which everyone about him was repeating: that after a fire ifthe bricks turn black the building is doomed,but ifthey remain red then it may be restored and made pukka again. Most of the masonry underneath its coating ofmud daub had been preserved from the flames: and the rest, as his servantsanxiously pointed out following the suggestionthat one of them might have been carelesswith a cigarette that day, would come right with a little judicious scraping. In answerto his letter to the bishop the ReverendSingh received a visit in May from the Reverend Tubbs who, as Secretaryof the DiocesanBoard of Missions, had come to inspectthe damageto the orphanage,offer his consolations and make the official recommendationthat the money for repairs be collected from the parish of Midnapore. But as a friend and supporter of Singh's, Mr Tubbs promised to do his best to ger him a granr. He had combined his visit with a general survey of the Midnapore and Kharagpur missionsand had come away with a good impression of his former pupil's work in unusually difficult circumstances. Apart from the occasional help of tJre railway chaplain at KharagpurrMr Russell Payne,who complained almost as much as his predecessor,Walters, abouf the living there and would have nothing to do with missionary work, the Reverend Singh had to cover the five thousand squaremiles and two million people that potentially came within the limits of his parish, with the help of two readers and two catechists.It was,of course,an impossibleundertaking and inevitably the hard, time-consumingmissionary work - held up that year by a Santaluprising in the South, not far as it happened from where he had rescued the wolf children * came frequently into conflict with the demands of the Midnapore congregation.After meeting some of the
leading Church members in the vestry of St John's after service and having visited a number of other Bengal,i Christian families in their homes, Reverend Tubbs heard for himself of their unwillingnessto support financially a mission to the Santals, or for that matter an orphanage devoted mostly to the care of aboriginal children, both of which enterprisestook their priest away from them. Some even insinuated that Singh must be a Santal himself how else to explain his dark complexion and love of the iungle and its carrion-eating peoples? Others, mostly on the Church Committee, grumbled that he was too highchurch for their taste, an authoritarian figure who, in the presentpolitical climate,would be better advisedto try to create a more democratic Church, which might do something to stop the advance of the Baptists. It was all sadly familiar, the squabblesand intrigues, rivalries and petty socialdistinctiora that were the reality of an Indian parish; but it was not so very different from homeand Tubbs, who by no means welcomed all the changes that were being tluust upon the Church in India, any more than did Singh, congratulated him on his delicate handling of a complex situation. He also took care to praise his work amongthe Santalsandespeciallythe orphanage,adding that he felt sure the bishop would share in his opinion that it was a most deservingcause.His praiseafforded the padre the greatest possible satisfaction. A more immediate consequenceof the orphanage's tgreat disaster', the as fire soon came to be known, was that more than half the children had been left without a roof over their heads. As a temporary m€asure the boys had beenmade to give up their dormitory in the eastwing to the homelessgirls, and camp out in the prayer room, which they thoroughly enioyed. The fire had also destroyed the little hutch-like room, wedged between the girls' dorlnitory and Mrs Singh's quarters, where Kamala slept and, as there was nowhere suitable for her to go, she was put in with the girls. It was the first time since Amala's
160
16r
death that she had slept in company. To begin with some of the orher children objected to her being there. Louise Mani Das, now a woman of sixty-five and still resident in Midnapore, remembersKamah as something of a nuisance: 'She was always restless at night. Sometimes she made strange noises, even in her sleep, howling and grunting and going "Hoo! Hoo! Hoo!" Then she smelt very badly - a smell like an animal. After she had washedit was not so bad, but that smell alwayscameback.'l Yet theV soon got used to her, and Kamala, though she had to put up with more teasing than before, would eventually benefit from being brought into closer contact with her sister orphans. There was no immediate response,however, and the friendship betweenher and another child, which the Singhs hoped and prayed for now more than ever, showed no signsof developing.Instead she formed an attachment, as if deliberately to thwart their ambition for her, with a fierce little rooster, which had chasedand pecked nearly everyone in the orphanage, but allowed her to approach and evenpat it in her clumsy manner without offering too much resistance.The association,like others before, was discouraged:it could not altogether be prevented. Even with the help of their two daughtersand Daniel, when he was at home,the Singhsfound it impossibleto keepwatch over Kamala all the time. As it was she received already a disproportionate amount of their attention, and ihe criticism had been levelled that her progr'essso far was hardly a convincing return on the trouble they had aken with her. Whatever her past had been she was now an abnormal and retarded child and showed little sign of ever becoming anything else. Were there not equally deserving casesin the orphanage with a better chance of benefiting from their assistancelIt was not an easyargu. ment to counter, especiallyin view of the Bishoprsrecent questionsabout orphanages.They had often thought of giving up on her, leaving her simply to exist. But il they had sometimes lost interest and patience, the Singhs hai
never abandoned hope. Nor had the padre forgottert his obligation to the children he had reclaimed from the forest. In retrospecg Kamala's achievementin learning to stand and walk on two feet would lose some of its significance, but at the time everyone recognized the turning point they had beenwaiting for. It wasearlyJune and the start ofthe rains. All year Mrs Singh had persevered with the old exercises - the tree, the bench-square, the wall-bracket and swing - as well assomenew ones,but without noticeable improvement. Then, at x point when Kamala's prospectsofever learningto walk seemeddoubtful, the Reverend Singh decided to take over this partofher education himself. He approachedthe problem using the samemethods as before, e.vengoing back to the earliest and crudest attemptsto makeher standby holding her up by the hands, but bringing to his tuition a slightly different emphasis. He becamestricter, more forceful, more domineering and less patient with her than Mrs Singh had ever been, as if he wanted her to know that he could only spare her so much of his valuable time; but in this new relationship with Kamala, which still carried undercurrents of fear and resentmenton both sides,he was at last being true to himself. Kamala seemed to sense the difference, or to appreciateat leastthe strength of his determination to make her succeed. Her first attitude wasthat of dislike for mg so much so that she got irritated at once.When I usedto catch hold of her hands and made her stand like us in our morning walk, she would open out her teeth frightening me to bite . . . To calm her irritation I would bring out the meat at once and show it to her . . . this wasa pieceof raw meat which I alwayscarried in my pocketduring suchmorning walks. . . The very sight of the meat would appeaseher and she would at once be gentler. I never disappointedher becausedisappointmentat an expectation like ttris would createdisbelief.A disbelief like this would
t6z
never heve permitted her to come to somesort of friendship betweenus.After she finished a pieceof meat I would take out another and showit to her. Shewould raiseher headeagerlyto haveit I would hold it high up beyond her reach, just to allure her againto makean effort to reachit . . . I put the meatat a height just six inchesaboveher head, when she stood on her knees. Shecommencedjerking her body up a little. It wasnot a jump but she extendedher body by raising her hand with a jerk. She could not reach the meat. Then I tried to help her by raisingher bodily to reachthe meat.Shecaughtit and I slowly placedher on the ground . . . She permitted me to touch her for the sakeof the meat. fn this mannershegraduallyallowed me to raiseh€r by the handto reachthe meat.I raisedher knees from the ground as she knelt - nearly six inches,leaving her feet touching the ground. In this way by and by I made her rest on her feet. And Kamalacould standup straight,havinga bend at her knees. She first stood (unsupported)for five minutesoq ro June 1923. After this I paid attention to her walking. I repeatedmy former practiceoftrying to movewith her by holdingher hands. I failed completely.The next I tried wasto let her stand and hold out a piece of meat in front of her, six inches distant. Shecould not moveher feet. Sheremainedlike that. When she failed I gave her the meat every day. Then at last Kamala movedher feet two steps,one each,and could go no fiuther. f at onceiumped closeto her and gaveher the pieceof meat and shetook it, pleased,and dropped down on her kneesand then on her hands.2 Although she tired quickly to begin with,like any child learning to wal\ as she persevered so her strength and stamina grew and before very long she was able to walk from one end of the compound to the other without once going down on all fours. Her movements when upright were awkward; she staggered and shuffled along like a spastic and for some time to come would continue to feel more at easeon hands and kneesor on all fours, but with encouragement she could always be prevailed upon to walk erect This was interpreted by her tutors as a sign
l'* I
that at last she wanted to conform and be like them and the other children. It was the turning poinq no one doubted it, but a more zurprising theory, later held by Singh, would propose that the acceleration in Kamala's development stemmealnot so much from her zuccessin learning to walk as from her failure to learn to run. On two legs she could never managemore than a shakyuot; and while she continued to be able to run on all fours, as her walking gradually improved and for the first time she began to sleep with outstretched legs, she resorted less frequently to the faster of her old forms of locomotion. 'then It was Singh's belief that if shehad beenable to run, her progress in habits, taste, and inquisitiveness,like a learner-wouldnot havegrown at all. This defectinherlegs gaveher the opportunity to grow slowly asa human child.'3 A somewhatdubious contention,yet along with the move into the girls' dormitory, -the assumption of an upright posfure, her attachment to Mrs Singh and a number of other more gradual influences, it may have been a factor in this most heartening stage of her recovery. Throughout the rest of the year she showed signs of improvement; incidents, small and barely significant in thernselves, betrayed when taken together an awakening of the curiosity and intelligence and even some of the emotions of a normal child. When the younger children there were thirteen of them between the agesof three and five - went for walks along the paths inside the garden, Kamala would follow them now of her own accord. She liked to watch them play under the mango grove, but if the children happened to quarrel and someone began to cry she would come back at once to Mrs Singh and stand by her as if for her protection. Her appetiteschanged' She developeda strangepassionfor fried eggs and learnt to sit quietly at the tea table with the children until she receivedher daily egg. She did not loseher voraciousness, however,and was frequendy caught trying to force open 164 tlre kitchen door, or meddling with the lock of the meat
sefe. She explored rnore. Once she was found hanging over the parapet ofthe well which stood in a corner ofthe courtby the gate, rying to look down into the sky reflected ry1d in its waters. She was also beginning to take an interest in the children's gamesand seemedto enjoy watching the boys' spinning top: sometimesshe would put out a hand to stop it and then becomefrustrated when she could not get it going again: she uzually ended up by biting it. Her performancewith the punkah did not improve, but as a new activity she could be relied on now to drive the crows and chickensaway from pulse spreadout on a mat to dry in the sun. There could be no doubt shewascoming,ound at last and would yet confound her critics. One eveningin late September,asif to test the accumulated wisdom of the past months, by which it was felt that Kamala had finally -oflearnt to prefer the companyof other children to that animals, the Reverend Singh purposelyleft her outsidethe houseand courtyardto roam about the darkenedcompound with the orphanageguard dogs.
r65
We all hid ourselvesso tlrat sbe cameto know that we had all gonein the houseandboltedthe door.Shecameat the door and sat there for sometime. We have severaldoors all round the courtyardwall. All thesedoorsareclosedat dark. After waiting at that particulardoor for a quarter of an hour, shegot up and went round the wall and stopped at each and every door. Finding all the doorsshut,shecamebackto the generalentrance from which she was accustomedto go out and comein. She pushedthis door to find out whetherit vas closed.She fouad it shut. She did not leavethe door but sat at it and tried to listento eachand everysoundinside. . . When shedid not find any soundescapingthroughthe door shegot plzled and did not know what to do. She got restless.Sheran from one door o the other consantly. After half an hour or so she heerd someonealking inside and she gave a loud shrill cry. She cried onceand stopped.After a while anothercry andanabrupt pushon the door. At hst the door wasopenedand shecrawled in quietly.a
An important battle had beenwon and victory w$ cor firmed not only by Kamala'scontinuingfear of beingleft out'at night, but in a new reluctanceto accompany the Singhson their eveningwalkson themaidanby the light of a kerosenelamp or a more primitive rag and bamboo torch (of the kind the padre alwaysusedin the iungle) which they carriedwith them. If shecould be persuaded to comg whereasbeforeshehadliked to run freeandwide, she now stayedcloseto their heelswhether walking or crawling and lookednervouslyfrom sideto side,asifthe shadowsthat dancedoutsidethe ring of torchlight held newandunknownterrorsfor her. In the ReverendSingh's mind herewasproof that shehad at last beentakenback from the thrall of night which, he believed,God had teasedto the animal wodd, just as He had set day aside for men: he sawher newfearfirlnessafter dark,in contrast to her former unnervingconfidence,as a triumph of day over night, of light over darknessand good over evil. 'She wasno Ionger tle sameKamalawho hadmovedwith fhe wolvesin the dark,' he wrote; and observedgratefully in his diary: 'This is wonderful.'s Of all the advancesthat Kamala madein the period followingher learningto walk nonewereso importantor potentiallyof suchinterest,whereher development is concerned,as the now morerapid evolutionof her ability to understandanduselanguage.Unfortunately,Singhis less informative on this subjectand lessconsistentwith the information he does offer than on many other not so critical aspectsof her behaviour, As a schoolmaster polyglotandamateurphilosopher, onemighthaveexpected him to takeparticularinterestin Kamala'sefforfstowards acquiringlanguage, andindeedthe carefulloggingofher first attemptsat speechindicatethat hewasinterested,but he lackedboth the time and the closerelationshipthat his wifeenjoyedwith Kamalato makea detailedshrdyof her linguisticunfolding,suchasit was.However,it emerges clearly that Kamaladid learn to speakand to understand fifi
t&l
considerably more than she could erpress, and that the progress she made with language, as recorded by Singh, follows a pattern which matches the overall picure of her development. When the wolf children first arrived at the orphanageit appeared that neither Kamala nor Amala could speak or understandany language.They could makecertain noises, usually accompanied by a display of seemingly aggressive behaviour, which were various$ identified as grow\ barks,whimpers, grunts and a peculiar sound- something like'Hoo! Hoo!'- which had a more recognizablyhuman quality. They would also give vent to a long, drawn-out cry or howl of varying pitch which they usually performed as a duet. The Reverend Singh and others who heard the sound describedit as a cry ofloneliness or a call to their former companions, but if this could be seenas an att€mpt at communication, albeit with other animals, none of their other vocalizations were recognized as such. Apart from the howling there is no record of Kamala or Amala ever making noisesor signals to each other to expressmeaning, though it srems reasonableto suppose that they would have done so; and that the Reverend Singh, who was neither a scientist nor a trained observer ofanimal behaviour, almost certainly missed or ignored the evidence that was available.Which raisesthe interesting though necessarily academicquestion of whether Kamala and Amala during their time in the jungle had acquired the language of wolves, comprising, as it does, not only numerous vocalizations but full paradigms of signs and signals which wolves interpret visually as well as by smell. One can assume that some degree of communication must have existed between the children and the wolves, and that the Iimitations of their own physical make-up - they had litde of the right linguistic equipment: neither tails, nor caudal glands, nor ruffs, nor hairy cheeks, nor mobile pointed ears - as much as their social position within the wolf family, determined what forn it took. Whether their
presumably pidgin Wolf had helped or inhibited ttrem in adiusting to their new linguistic environment, and to what €xtent, cannot now tre calculated. But Kamala's repertoire of human non-verbal expressions,restricted to what she had learned by imitation since she had been ot the orpharr age, had remained pitifully small. Their first significant utterance had been made by Amala and later copied by Kamala. When approaching food she would make a'Bhoo, Bhoo' sound and subsequentlg shordy before she died, she would make the same noise to an empty plate or to Mrs Singh indicating that she was hungry or thirsty. From early on Mrs Singh had taken trouble to speakto Kamala and Amala whenever she was with them, as if they were babies learning to a$ bur apart from the singlc incident when Amala wasthought to have looked up at the picture of the Sermon on the Mount in responseto the mention of a word for food they gave little indication of undersanding anything that was said to them. Shortly efrcr Amala's death Kamala was reported in the somewhat inaccurate article in the Medinipur Hitaishi as being able to say one word, 'Bhala', meaning 'good' or'alrightt in Bengali, in answer to any question put to her, but it was clear that she understood neither the questions nor her own reply. Others among the visitors who went to see Kamala at that time do not give her credit for even one word, though Capt. M. Guin, the son of Mr K. C. Guin, who ran the Wine and Providence Stores in B*ra Btzaar., where the Singhs did much of their shopping, remembers that Kamala as well as grow{ing and looking fierce used to make a repetitive sound, somethinglike 'Bhoo'or 'Bha', while'openingher mouth as if she was trying to say something. But she couldn't sp,eak.'TheReverendSingh lists'Bhal'as one of the first words in the vocabulary which she was to develop some two years later, but his remarls on her use of the word seemto su$gestthat it had a history, 'This becamea very peculiar word with her becauseonce she said "Bhal"
168
she went on repeating this word for some time. During the repetition of this word, if anyone asked her *y other guestioq the reply invariably was "Bhal".'6 Possiblyher common all-purposeutteranceof 'Bhoo' or .Bha' had es early as October rgzr been optimistically taken for a 'lvord' by Singh, who had an interest by then in presenting the public, now that tlre secret w:ts out, with a story of charity and faith and ofgood to miraculous progress by a 'wolf child' in Christian care. Actual development probably followed a more conventional course- an underlying assumption being that the children were taken by thewolves, or abandoned or whateverhappened,beforetheyhad acquired languagefrom their human parents. According to Singh, Kamala progressed very slowly from animal noises, howling growling and suchlike, to a few vaguely phonetic utterances, chattering and pratding to herself or the animals that she befriended, and from there to actual words. A commensurate growth in comprehensiondeveloped,as might have been expected, more rapidly and Kamala beganto undersand words long before she would try to imitate them. 'Once, she was in the drawing room with several children who were dusting books and keeping them back to the shelf. Kamala was there and I was writing a letter in the sameroom. I found Kamala turning towards tlem n'hen her name came up in their talk. And when someonesaid Kamala is sleeping, she turned round at once.tTBefore she could speak, she learnt to indicate 'yes' or 'no' by nodding or shakingher head, or at least by a shuddering blank-faced refusal or an eager forward movement of greed, for in trying to teach h€f words the Singhs always used food for their 'obfect
t69
l€ssons'. They would ask her what she wanted to eat or drink, usually a fairly limited choice, while they pointed out and named what lay before her. When she reacted positively to anything, they would give her the food and r€peat the word for it all the time she was eating. 'We wanted to crerte an interest in the nimes by finding out
what she liked and what she wanted as far as we could understand. We would take a pup or a kid, which interested her much, and place it before her: she would ule it up on her lap and we would repeat its name as "Bacha" (: young one) and 8o on repeating it all the while she kept it on her lap and was interested in it. The moment she left it on the ground and wanted to go we stopped . . . It was noticed that she picted up this name very quickly.'8 It was only when she had been at the orphanage for more than three years, already six montls after she had learnt to walk, that the break-through finally came.Within the spaceof two months from December rgz3 to February r9z4 she was heard to use at least eleven different words. As to the order in which she learnt them, the Reverend Singh appearssomewhatvague, giving one word pride of place and then another. Kamala had long recognized the word'Ma'to designateMrs Singh and may have used it 'Before Kamala could 6rst - or so the padre would have it: ((Mot' came naturally to her. utter anything, the word ((Ma" to Mrs Singh and then hide She would call out herselfin a corner.'eIt seemsthat shewasshy about speaking and if anyone happened on her when she was talking to herself she would at once fall silent. She had also more 'Hoo' (a sound that she had made recently learnt to say sinceearly days)for'Ha', the Bengaliword meaning'yes', in answer to the question whether she wanted more foodl and 'na' meaning'no', from imitating a little boy who had cut his leg and was objecting to having it dressed:a few days later, when Kamala sprained her wrist, she made the same protest during her massage.The new words came in quick succession:Bha(t) (rice), Bhal (alright), A-(D 0), Khai (eat), Papa (Rev. Singh) and Lal (red). She learnt the namesof some of the other children, but could only get out the first sllable or a one-syllable 'Soo' for approximation of their names. She would say Saraju, for instance. Later on, when she began putting
r7o
two words together, she would run the sounds into each other so that 'Ami Jabo' (I will) became 'Amiab', or 'Toomy' (I became'Toom'. It was hardly an im"m) pressive performance, but in the circumstances it was an encouraging start. And then, as luck would have it, iust at the time when Kamala had been making most progress, Mrs Singh was suddenly called away to Calcutta. An aunt of hers had been aken seriously ill. She was away for more than two weels and in her absenceKamala pined. She gavs up all aftempb at talking and many of her more established routines and activities. Most of the day she sat alone in her corner with her head bowed betweenher shoulders,sulking. At mealtimes, or when she was hungry, she would come to the Reverend Singh, who had taken over rhe supervision of the house, and stand near his chair in the office. But she did so reluctantly.
17r
At first Kamala would not permit anyoneto help her with anythingor in any way. She would resistand go awayin rage. I usedto be calledin and usedto treat her with affectionand mildness,somuch asI could showany preferenceto her doings to the other children under the circumstances. Someonecame to me and told me that Kamala was not coming for her food. { Sheis obstinateand would not fisten to us.' I wint in and found Kamalasitting in her cornervery much displeased. . . I approachedher. I calledher nameto makeher know my presence.But not She did not move. I werit on callingher nameassweetlyasI could.After sometime Kamala lookedup at me. Her expressionand the movementof her eyes clearlyshowedher displeasure,but shedid not speak.I placed my hand very affectionatelyon her and said: 'I know these chilclrenare very wickedto trouble Kamala. . .' I changedthe topic. I askedher all on a sudden:'Kamala,whereis Mama?' She looked at me again. I understoodshe was very much anxious.Then againI changedthe topic and at last cameto the chief point of disagreement for which I wascalledin. I would requesther to take her food ... She left off eatingmuch after my wife left her. During her abseoceKamala became
becq$eindi$erento hs sumoutrdmorsc andpeevish.:She ings.t' The ReverendSingh wasafraid that shemf'trt havea seriougevenperrnan€ntrelapseand that all the advances shehad madein the pastmonthswouldbe losf, but at the end of JanuaryMrc Singh camebackfrom Calcuttaand imnediatelyeverythingchanged.On the dayof her return thc chiklrencameto tell Kamalathat'Mama'was there. As soonas she heard her voice, Kamala ran out on all foursto meether andrushingupto her siderubbedher*lf againsther leg and turned aroundand aroundwhile Mrs Singh pattedher and caughthold ofher chin to hug and kiss her. For the rest of the day Kamalarefusedto leave her sideor takenoticeofttre ReverendSinghor anybody elseat the orphanageand althoughshecould not laugh or cry or even smile to expressemotion,there was no doubt in their mindsthat perhapsfor the first time in her life Kamalawastnrly happy.Over the next few daysshe biddableanddocileasshehadnever appearedcooperative, been before; on the Thursday following Mrs Singh's r€tua - Thursdaywashe.rbathingday- sheevenallowed herselfto be washedwithout undue fuss.Her changeof heart brought about a renewal of old activities from punkah-pullingto scaringthe birds and, more graduallg o rehrrn to her stilted assaulton language. At the sametime shebeganto assertherselfmore.The ReverendSingh would ask himself whetherthis wasthe oonsequence ofher learningto speakor its cause,but her wasof a limited natureand most likeb the assertiveness result of frequentteasingby the other children, Her personalityor conceptionofself, developingthroughcontact with otherg as yet wasscarcelyemergent.Shecould say 'Am' (I) in a rolkall, and'Amna' (not I), whenuniustly accusedofkitling a pigeon,and she could recognizeher ownclothesor atleastthe redones.Shehadwhatamounted to an obsessionwith red. If .any of the other childrcn ,72
picked up somegannont or clsth of that color in her q".$"n"" shewould pounceon it and try to tear it awey from them and,if shezucceeded, wouldrefirseto let go of iq whetherit belongedro her or not. As far as sheknew rtd washers,and wheneverthe word ,lal' cameup, she would at onceturn to the child who had spokenand IooL long at them,at fust with interestand then reproachfirlly asifshe wantedthem to know that shehad ak"tr p"ss.*sioa of the word aswell asall that it described. Onemorningin Decemberthe ReverendSinghreturned from walkingup snipe in the fields behind the housero find that Kamala had been taken ill during the night. This time Dr Sarbadhicariwas calledin without deiav. Once again she appearedto be zufferingfrom wormq dysenteryand fever,andeveryoneat the orphanage feared the worst.But the attackturned out not to be seriousand within a few daysKamalarecovered.Her illness,however, left her weakand irritable for sometime afterwards;she becamemore than usually demandingof Mrs Singh, wanting constantattentionand refusingto be left alone for a moment.But therewasone favourableconsequence ofher long convalescence; she madenoticeableprogress with learningto talk and addeda numberof wordsto her vocabulary. When shewaswell enough,a'Thank OfleringService' for her recoverywas held in the prayer room. Kamala" showingher displeazure by constandyscowling,wasmade to kneelin line with the otherchildren,whilethe Reverend Singh stoodfacing her, handsjoined and cuppedbefore him, eyesraisedto the incompletedroof in his favourite attitudeof prayer. A few dayslater, on r Januaryrgz5,hetook Kamalaby tdrt-tomto St John'sChurchwhere,alongwith a groupof Sanal menand womenwho had comefrom their villages in the jungle for formal admissioninto the Church, she was to be baptized.Beforethe ceremonythere was the
usual evening service, but Kamala was kept outside in the carriage and only brought in after the Bengali congregation had dispersed.As a practical ioke againstthe padre and the tribal converts, some ofthe high-caste Christian boys had filled the baptismal font with fish, dissolving into giggles behind the pews as they waited for the inevitable reactionl but they were to be disappointed. The Reverend Singh would not give them the pleasure of seeing him lose his temper. After blessing the water and all that swam in it he proceededwith the baptismsleaving Kamala's till last, both to saveher from the eyesofthe curious and because she had already been privately baptized in the orphanage at the time of Amala's death and therefore required a different form of service. She could not be baptized or christened again, only received publicly into the congregation. For the Reverend Singh, who was a firm believer in the power of liturgy, confirming her rebirth as a Christian child -'an heir of everlastingsalvation'- seemeda fitting way of celebrating the recent advances she had made towards the recovery ofher human faculties. Unfortunately, in the middle of the service, Kamala" wearing a freshly dhobied white frock, suddenly crouched down on the floor, frightened no doubt by the unfamiliar surroundings,and glancedrapidly from side to side as if looking for a way to escape.But Mrs Singh and one of the girls from the orphanage,who were aaing godmothersand reading her responses,stood besideher and hemmed her in until the end of the ceremony,so that the padre, disregardingthe mockinglaughter of the boys (with whom he would dealseverelylater on) could say a thanksgivingthat was full of genuinegratitude and optimism. 'seeing now, dearly beloved brethren, that Kamala is regenerate,and drafted into the body ofChrist's Church, let us give thanks unto Almighty God for these benefits; and with one accord make our pray€rs unto Him, that Kamala may lead the rest of her life according to this beginning.'11
ChapterEight
During Gandhi's second visit to Midnapore, in casethey should catch sight of him driving in the Narajoles' open Bentley to or from the palaceat Gope where he was suying as a guest of the Rajah, the inmates of 'The Home'had beenforbidden to stand near the orphanagegatesor remain for any length of time in the front part of the compound. Whether Singh thought he was protecting those in his chargefrom setting eyeson the Mahatma, asif that in itself was enough to inspire devotion to his cause (indeed it often was), or simply did not want his children and servants adding to fhe crowds that always thronged the streets wherever he wenr, the padre meant his orders to be carried out. In the last four years, notwithstanding the growing complexity of the polirical situatior5 his attitude towards the man, whom he regarded as the greatest threat to the stability of India, had hardened. When Gandhi had gone to prison early in tgzz, having wound up his civil disobedience campaign, ostensibly becausehe was horrified by the violence causedby his own teaching, the Reverend Singh along with many others had not taken too seriously his declared intention of withdrawing from politics and devoting his energiesto peaceful tconstructivet work such as spinning the removal of untouchability, and Hindu/Moslem unity. Although indeedhe had been as good as his word since his releasefrom prison in February rgz4 and had made no attempt to regain control of the Congress Party, which had passedduring his eclipseto the able leadership of C. R. Das, it was, they felt, only becausehe had no need ofa conventional
polidcal base. Gandhi's power in India resided in the susc€ptibility of the Hindu masses to religious leadership. He had come to be regarded by them as an avatar one ofthose rare incarnations of God through the ages,a human soul brought to the highest stageof development in order to help establishthe reign of truth on earth. His loincloth and stave, emblems of asceticism and fearlessnesq and his unassailable aura of saintliness were the perfect props for compelling the 'attention and obedience of his countr5men. Whether consciously or not he knew how to erploit the mass psychology of the people: to become the undisputed political leader of India, it was more imponant 'the gteat soul', to extend his reputation as Mahatma, throughout the country than to try to control the vicissitudes of patriotic and political sentiment in the hearts of &e middle classes.What Singh feared for dte continuation of British rule was that Gandhi would carry Indian nationalism, until now the concern of the educated few, out to the villages and in the name of spirihnl soatai give the ordinary people a real share in political activity, which they had never known before. In that direction, he felt sure, lay the end ofthe Raj as well as untold danger and misery for India. But it was as a Christian'that Singh felt nrost keenly the threat of Gandhiism, not only becausehe could accusethe Mahatma of poaching among the outcasts, untouchables and tribal people, hitherto the chief recruiting reserve of the missionary Church, but because he believed quite simply and with all the force of rinrrow conviction that Christianity was the true and only path for India, and that accordingly the country was best served by a Christian government. No doubt there was some self-irrterest in this attitude, since like most Indian Christians, and more than most, he owed his living to his religion; socially isolated fiom his own counrJmlen, what privilege and security he enioy.d was entirely dependent on the continued presence ofhis European rusters, even tlrough, as defenders ofthe
ry6
t77
Feith, they wefe not alwaysas zealousas their converB would haveliked them to be. But Singh alsobelongedto the old school of missionaryambition; still living in chronic hope of the massconversionof the entire suh. continent,he sawthc authorityof the Church, both temporal and spiritual, as its strongestweaponin the fight ag:ainstheathenism.Understandablyhe felt ttnt this authority was being underminedby the more liberalminded clergy in their desire to createa democratizcd Indian Church: in panicutar he resented the lead which his own bistrop,the Metropolitanof India and md influential prelate in thc land, was giving in this direction. In Septemberof the prwious year he had been surprised to learn that Bishop Westcott had acceptedan invitation to attend a Hindu/Moslem PeaceC,onference convenedby Gandhi in Delhi. Reading the Bishop's repoft on the conference somemonthslater tnthe Cahutta DiocesatRecord,he was outragedby the sympathetic, almostreverentialtonesin which the Bishopdescribedhis visit with C. F. Andrews to Gandhi's bedsideon t}e eleventhday of the fast, which the Mahatmahad under. takenasanact of penancefor the communalsrife that w*s threateningto destroyall hopeofunity andprogressin the political life of India. Gandhi had askedfrom his sickbedto hearhis favouriteChristianhymn,at whichthe two Clnistianpriestshadobliginglysrruckup with kod kindlX light anid thc ercirclinggloom.The ReverendSingh,who believedthat Gandhiwasresponsible for stining thingsup betweenHindu and Moslemin the first place,had been criticalof the visit. But at a recentcouncilmeetinghearing the Meropolian repeatthat it hadbeenaltogethera most rewardingand moving experience- the darkenedroom, the frail figure of the Mahatma reclining on the couch hardly visible in the fading lighg the sileng watching ctowdoutsidein the streetandthe Christianhymnsungby two believers:'A memorablesettingfor the sowingof the
seed which can nEver Perish" - he had chosen to say nothrng. For the two days that Gandhi was to spend in Midnapore from the evening of 5 to 7 July 1925,the Reverend Singh had not only put the front garden ofthe orphanage out of bounds but forbidden any of his family or servants to go into town during the Mahatma's visit. Here at least he had the exctse that there was real danger of being caught up and crushed o{ \{orse by the throng. As it turned out the processionwent offpeacefully enough.The bespectacled avataf, was driven through the muddied narrow streets in the Raiah's automobile, perched mouselike on a wide siegeofpearl grey upholstery, to be gently pelted by adoring crowds with an auspicious mixture of durba grass, paddy, sandalpaste and yellow and white flower petals, arriving to the discordant sound ofa thousand conch shells, ketde drums and rymbals in the grounds of the Collegiate School. It was here that he held the first of two meetings with the declared purpose of raising a memorial fund in honour of Deshbandu C. R. Das. The leader of Congresshad died an untimely death only three weeks before, leaving the party split down the middle and in danger of foundering. Although he asked supPort for Congress, Gandhi made it clear that he would not accept the burden of leadership. He spoke softly and slowly in Hindi, mosdy about weaving and self-discipline, leaving his Bengali interpreter to raise his voice in a vain attempt to reach those at the back of the enormous audience.There were no Europeans present and no overt show of police strength, though becauseof evidence that terrorists wcre infiltrating Gandhi's supporters and building up to another campaignofviolence, a number ofobservers had been placed in the crowd. It was one ofthese undercover men, reporfing back to the Superintendent of Police, who happenedto mention seeingamong the ranks sf hhadi'clad Gandhi-ites an incongruous figure in a white European suit, who bore a striking resemblanceto Daniel Singh.
r78
r7g
The following Sundayafter church, the S.p., e rftrn calledWaterworth,raisedthe matterwith the p"dr, ,ugglrti"q iokingly that his sonhad beencaughtfraternizing with the enemy.The ReverendSingh wes not amused. That eveninghe confrontedDaniel with the storv of his erploits and was shockedby the boy's cool, iruolent avowal:he hadgoneto tle meetingbecause hewascurious to hearwhat Gandhihad to say.Knowing Danielto hold little sympathyfor the nationalistcause,he accusedhim of deliberatelyflouting paternalauthority; his presence there would reflectbadly on the orphanageand the Church; he had struck a cruel, ungrateful blow againsthis father. Danielwasdefiant,unrepentant;inhisturn heaccused the padreof beinga ryranranda bully. The row flaredquickly in the hot, airlessnight and all the long-suppressea no* tility betweenfatherand son,the detritusofp."t quarrels andmizunderstandings wasreflrrected. And suddenlvthe two menbeganto shoutat eachother,wild with og, no* in Bengali,now Englishor somerimes a comic alliyige of both. Irrevocablethings were said. The next rnorni"g Daniel left the house;he was twenty yearsold, and hii mother, who loved him, was powerlessto stop him or bring aboura reconciliation.He would sray\ilirh friends until he hadcompletedhis coursein electricalengineering at MidnaporeCollege;and then he would go to wort ii Kharagpurar the shopsof the Bengal-NagpurRailway. From now on he would needto supporrhimsel{,for his fatherhadpromisedto cut him offwithout a paise. After the rift with his sonSinghfell into oni of his black moodsand, aswashis habit on theseoccasions, beganto fast, taking only tea and sometimesa handful of irri ot puffed rice ar bedtime to keep body and soul together. He spoketo no onefor a weekandthe atmosph.r" .Th" Hop"' grew daily more oppressive,for as long"It as the padrewasin low spirits everyonewasforcedto keephim company.At mealtimeshe wouldsit in grim silenceat the head of the able while his wife and daughterpecked
nervousbat their food, hardly daringto saya word. Mrs Singhfoundan excuseto moveternporarilyto her private quartersat the backof the building nearthc girls' dormitory; asoftenasnot the padrespentthe night on a chairin his office.Servantsand children kept out of his way and evenKamalaseemedto understandthat all wasnot well and retreatedto the safetyofher cornerwhenevershesaw him. Then onemorning,aszuddenlyasit had descended, the cloud lifted and everythingreturned to normal. It 'Satanhasleft me,' he would usuallyhappenedthat way: &ulornoemeeklyto his wife and apologizewith somewhat unctuousregretfor his bad behaviour,askingforgiveness ofeach personhe thoughthe might haveofended.Only this time Daniel wasnot included.Nor had Singh'sdevil dtogetherleft him and the ye.ar19z6,which had started unhappilywith the deathof his own fatherand the lossof his favourite daughter,Preeti Lota, who had married a missionarydoctor from Trinidad and gone to live in Ranchi,continuedwretchedasthe financialpositionofthe orphanagedeterioratedsharply, bringing him into debt and conflict with his own parishionersaswell as his missionarysuperiorsin C-alcutta. As a result of theseand other worries,perhaps,Singh hadbegunto neglecthis snrdyof the wolf child. Entriesin hi" diery for the year are sparseand not very revealing. after the great Atso Ksmale wasmakingslowerprog:ress stepforwardof the previousyearand,a little disappointpd no doubt by the fruit of five years' patient effort and inspiredhope,the Singhspaid ratherlessattentionto her now tlan before.It hardlyseemedto rnatt€r,for Kamala's life in the orphanagewas still t aStcalbzufficientunto itself. And yet the sigruof a developingpersonalitydo here ofdays. endtherestandout from the long blankness Karnalawasableto recognizeher plateandrefusednow to eet frcm any other: shehad dso learnt to drink water from r glass(thoughnot without spilling most of it) rnd insistedon knowingher own glassfrom thoseof the other r&
r8r
children. Her taste in food began to change, too; She gradually developed a tolerance for salt which before she had always disliked. The Reverend Singh thought it worth noting how she first came round to it. At breakfast one of the orphans had asked for salt wi& his food. Mrs Singh bed duly given him a pinch in her fingers and then asked Kamala" who had been watching her closely,if she would like sometoo. Kamala said nothing but continued to stare at her in a peculiar fashion, her small black eyes full of imprisoned meaning. Mrs Singh dipped her hand in the salt bowl and pretended to pick som€up and sprinkle it on Kamala's plate. Kamala tasted her food and reiected it immediately, looking up again at Mrs Singh, who riow understood that she really wanted the salt, not just to receive the same treatment as the other child (though clearly there were some simple imitative elements present) and grve her some. It was a great successand, from then on, having once acquired the taste, Kamala would often refuse her food if it was not sufrciendy salted. Possibly her new liking for salt and a corresponding sweettooth were the result of being weaned olf meat on ro a mosdy vegetable dieg which would generally thin the blood - a condition for which salt and sugar are the best antidotes. Her craving fm nreat, whether raw or cooked"had not grown any less; and on the rare occasionswhen it was served (crooked)to the orphans, she instandy forgot what able mannersshe might have acguired and emptied her plare before the finish of grace,which earned her a sharp reprimand from the padre. Ifshe wasable to understand where she had transgressedit was only becausefood had kept its place at the centre ofher existence; it still governed her emotions and still determined the ways and means of her developmeng providing her both with stimulus and a hazy but utilitarian senseof right and wrong. She was naturally afraitl of being scolded. The following incident, described by the Reverend Singh, illustrates the extension of that fear (instilled no
doubt by the numerous tellings-off she had received for steating meat from the kitchen or devouring carrion she found lying in the orphanage garden) towards a mone generalizedguilt: Sheusedto be given someraw vegetablesalongwith the other children. At first she would not touch any. She did not know how to eattlem but graduallylearnt. One day a pieceofradish was given to her. She ate that and heardthe conversationthat it grewin the kitchen gardenwithin the compound.Afterwards she went to the gardenand took up two of them. One she ate and the other she wascaught eatingon her way back. She was simply told playfully'Kamala is becominga thief'. Shesome how understoodit and hid herself under the bed. Iilhen she qlme out from there after sometime she was given a radish. She would not ake it.z She was very upset by what had happened. Mrs Singh took her on to her lap to comfort her with a soothing massageand kind words, eventually persuading her to accept the radish, but she never looked at another all season. Perhapsthe saddestpart of the story is that Kamala had to be trained to like the radish in the first place; indeed there must be something upsetting about the apparendy necessarycorruption of innocence to induce a sense of guilt. But from there, the Reverend Singh was able to reassurehimself, stemsthe gowth of moral awareness,and even of human kindness, for there were signs in Kamala's casethat her fear of punishment might eventually lead to 'When one of the children was feeling sympathy for others. found guilty and about to be punished' - the punishment was rarely harsh -'Kamala would leave the spot hurriedly and disappear. Ifasked to stay, she would not at first, but afterwards obeyed, remaining there in a very timid manner asif shealsowas going to be punished.'3 By the beginning of 19z6, at an age of approximately eleven or twelve years, Kamala still had a vocabulary of no more than thirty words, which she made sparing use of, not always answering when spokento and rarely initiating
r8z
r83
speech, except to iabber away to herself as she walked under the trees in the garden, or sat in her corner alone. But she understood more than she could expressin words and if she was in a mood to communicate, she could do so now by sign language, pointing out obiects when she did not know their name or had failed to make herself understood. Whereas before her face had always been mask-like except to register anger or fear, when she talked now it becamemore or lessanimated, as did her whole body in the effort and agitation of speech.And although her features would always return to 4 state of wooden repose, the possibility of communicating with Kamala by expression and gesfure on a non-verbal level - it is estimated that as much as eighty per cent of human communication is non-verbal - seemedto offer new accessto her personality. The kind of comforting contact which Mrs Singh had so successfullyinitiated by her skilful massagehad developed into that physical language,which sustainsthe illusion at leastof recognition and trust betweenmembersof the sarne species. Inevitably there was a danger of reading significance into the least sign of animation on Kamala's face' but some ofher expressions(a repertoire acquired over the years she had spent at t-heorphanage) were unmistakably semantic. On hearing, for instance, that Mrs Singh had re&rned from Ranchi, where she had been spending a few dayswith her daughter and son-in-law, Kamala's face suddenly 'distinctly brightened and, as the Reverend Singh noted, manifestedan expressionofjoy'. She left the room on all fours and ran out into the garden to m€et her, welcoming 'Ma Elo' (Mama come).Catchinghold her with the words: of Mrs Singh's hand, she stood up and walked with her very slowly on two feet down the drive, refusing to let any ofthe other children come near and jabbering excitedlyas if trying to recount everything that had happened in her absence;there was no sensein what she said, but the way she said it was chargedwith meaning.
In Januarythe weatherorned coldetthan usualfor the time ofyear andKamala"until now imperviousto changeo r blanketat night andallowedher. accepted of temperature, selfto becoveredin a wrapperlike the otherchildrenwhen they wentout for their morningand eveningwalls on the maidon,Sheeventook to tcting the temperatureof her bathwaterby dippingher handinto the iug to seeif it was zufficientlywarm beforeshewould allow it to be poured over her. Her fear of water had grown lessand, although sherefusedto go near the nrb, strewould play with the stutrquite happilyin smallquantities.Sheliked to lick the soapoff her body until Mrs Singh curedher of the habit by putting quininein the waterl but washingremainedan ectiuitysheneitherunderstoodnor enioyed.And the same went for hygrene.Exceptfor occasional exorrsionsto tlte bathroomwhenthe Reverendor Mrs Singhhappenedto be present,she continued to show a distinct lack of ercr€toryinhibitions.Along with anotherhabit she could not be persuadedto drop - that of rolling in any foul, pungentmatter- it might haveaccountedfor the strong smell she gaveoff at drnes, for which she was cruelly teasedby the girls in her dormitory.An alternativeexplanation, that she exudeda musty odour 'like an animal', which nevercompletelyleft her evenafter repeatedwashing, appearssomewhatfar-fetched;yet it is favouredby thosewho cameinto closecontactwith Kamala.Either interpretation could heve given rise to the following anriousincident The ReverendSingh had takenKamalato his'Dairy Farm', whichconsistedof a few cattlekeptin a shedon the othersideof the rnoidanWhethershemisbehaved herself he doesnot sily,but assoonastheyreachedthe catdeshed 'the cowsbeganto be restiveat her presencethere and madea noisewith their nosewhichsignifiedtheir fright at her presence in their midst.The cowswouldhavebroken their ropesif I did not removeKamah from their midst Kamalaremainedquiet but at the sametime showedsigns r84
r85
of feer lest they chasedher. The cows &uld not bear her sight at the Dairy. The calves even ran away to their motlers and jumped about the place. Kamala stood there on her hands and knees.'aSingh does not offer to explain, i*plyrns that it was the sight of Kamala on all fours which frightened the cows, but it seems more likely that they were reacting to her smell, possibly from having recently rolled in the scentmarksofdogs or jackalsor, alternatively, from havinglived on a diet of raw meatfor most of her life. Either way they had recognizeddanger - if not the wolf in child's clothing, then the child. For the Reverend Singh, walking her back across the fields, it had been an unwelcome reminder of the savage past and for some time after he feared Kamala might lapse into old habits, but she appeared quite unafected by the €ncounter and the incident wes soon relegated to insignificance in a year when Kamala's future seemedto hold the expectancy of unlimited advancement. Even when it becameclear that the promise of the early monrhs of ry26 \tras not to be firlfilled, the padre, buoyant afdin in his et€Tnaloptimism, continued to seeprogress in the least of her ploys. In his diary he documented a number of incidents that show Kamala still doing her best to make herself understood, mostb without the help of language (which apparently did not develop over the period), but in rather more complex situations than before. She could now be sent on small errands; on one occasion to fetch a rupee from the Reverend Singh's office - shetaps on the drawer in his desk where she knows he keeps the collection bag, he opens ir and gives her the money which she brings to Mrs Singh; or to rell Khiroda to bring the children's milk from the kitchen, which she doesby repeating the Bengali word for milk and pointing at the diningroom door. Successon thesemissions,reinforcedby praise and no doubt by some small reward, seemed to afford Kamala a certain satisfaction which showed clearly in her face, but it is all too reminiscent of a dog wagging its
tail after performinganefectivetrick whichhasdrawnthe 'almost human' reactionfrom a proud owner. Karnals could run to the diaing-room (on all fours) when she heard the dinner gong, then back to Mrs Singh if she found no food on the table to pull her by the arm in the directionof the kitchen; shecould indicatethat her meat wasnot saltenough,or rhrowatantmmif shecouldnot find her clothes- shewasnow gettingusedto wearinga frock andpyjamas;shecouldevenpointup to theskyanddraw Mrs Singh's attention to the moon. Undoubtedly her 'power ofunderstandingand the consequent requirement for action' was graduallyevolving into somethingthat to humanintelligence,but the bore a closerresemblance attendantforecast,which the ReverendSinghwasmaking of the previousyear,that againafter the disappointments 'in the nearfuture Kamalawascertainto be reclaimedasa humanchild' would oncemorenun out to be premature. A differentdestinyawaitedher.
bandof Towardsthe end of August 19z6anecumenical C.hristianyounB men, some sixty strong' arrived in Midnapore and establisheda summercamp in the old WesleyanMission at Kheranitolaon the west sideof the between town.The campwasanannualevent- somewhere by the S.C.M.to give anda retreat- organized a iamboree youngcollegesfudentsthe opportunityofenioying a week or so awayfrom home in a wholesomeChristian atmosphere.Eachyear it took placein a different part of the of the country;the choiceof Midnaporefot tgz6,because town's reputationfor political unrest,wasconsideredby someto beunwise. As it happenedit hadbeena long,uneasyzummerin the district with trouble brewing from early April and communal strife betweenHindus and Moslemsfinally breaking out in the railway workshopsat Kharagpur in mid-May.For aweekthe District Magistrate,RobenReid, and the S.P.,Mr Waterworth,had workeddayand night r86
I87
with a handful ofconstables in temperatureswell over roo" to keep warring mobs armed with improvised weapons (chisels and files lashed to sticts and sharpened on company grindstones) from cutting eachother to pieces.As the toll of deadand woundedrose,the D.M. wasfinally forced to call out the local battalion of A.F.I. (Auxiliary Force, India), made up mostly of Anglo-Indians working on the railways, who took over pickets and posts from the exhaustedpolice constablesand, reinforced by a company of Eastern Frontier Rifles from Chinswah, soon brought the violence under control. But it was an uneasy peace and the siruation, which somefeared would be exploited by the nationalists, remained tense for most of the summer. Luckily heavy rains in July and August, causing flooding in the southern part of the district, had cooled things offa little and by the time the Christian students arrived from Calcutta (where the rioting had been considerably worse),Midnapore wore a calm and friendly exterior. The leader of the group was an eccentric, much-loved Irishman, the Right Reverend Herbert Pakenham-Walsh, formerly Bishop of Assamand now since r9z3 principal of Bishop's College in Calcutta. Revered as one of the most holg distinguished but original churchmen in India" he also happened to be an old friend of the Reverend Singh, who had first come under his 'affectionate and considerate influence' more than twenty-five years before at Hazaribagh in Chutanagpore Division. Pakenham-Walsh had been Headmaster of the Dublin University Mission School there and Singh one of the junior masters.Since then the two men had met on a handful of occasionsand tlle Bishop, who had taken an interest in Singh's careerin its early stages,had kept a fatherly eye on him over tlte yearsand rememberedhim from time to time in his prayers. It was only natural, therefore,that while in Midnapore he should call to see him. Bringing along a contingent of students,who he felt might learn somethingfrom a visit to the orphanage, the Bishop bicycled out to Tantigoria
on tlre afternoonof 3o August to take tifEn with the ReverendSinghandhis wife. It wasa happyreunionand after a rapid inspectionof 'The Home', the visitorswere giventeaand biscuitsin the drawingroom. They satfor sometime discussingrwidevarietyof topics,for theBishop $'nsa greatalker, until one of the studentsrather awkwardlywrenchedthe conversationround to the subjectof wolves.Most of the sevenstudentsfrom Bishop'sCollege, among them Ronald Bryan (who was later to become Bishopof Dornakaland later still to reftrn to Bishop's College,wherche now residesasa t@cherandarchivist), dready knew aboutthe wolf childrenof Midnaporeand Tr€revery curiousto seethe survivingchild and question Singhabouther: it wasthe reasonwhy manyof them had volunteeredto comeout to the orphanageon such a hot .fternoon.On the waytheyhadprimedBistropPakenhanrlValsh,who until then hadheardnothingofthe story and persuadedhim to raisethe matter with Singh. Prompted by the talk of wolveshe rememberedhis promiseand put the questionsquarelyto tle padre. At first Singhwasreluctantto answerand tried his best to changethe subiect.The damagecausedby the newr paper article five years before had almost mendedand now that the orphanagewasno longerbesiegedbycrowds ofvisitors cometo seethe wolf child, he wasanxiousnot to stimulateanyfreshpublicity whichmight bring themback. But he was unable to resist for very long the earnest entreatiesof the Bishopor his students.After settingthe only conditionthat they shouldnot talk about what they sawwhen they left the orphanage,he agreedto let them meetKamalaand to answertheir questions.Someof the students,whoalreadyknewthe story hadheardmorethan oneversionofhow the wolfchildrenhad beenfoundand were anxiousto know the actual circumstancesof the Itscue. While Kamalawas being preparedfor her audiencethe padretold them, without in any way apologizing for his part in the afhir, whathadhappenedin the Mayur- r88
t89
bhani iungle. By now the Bisho'phirrrselfhsd beoome thoroughly engrossedin the srory. He was panicularly fiscinatedby Singh'siournal: 'He let meexaminethediary he had kept with almost daily entries from the day he rescuedher up to that day.'sThey werealsoshownvarious photographsof the wolf childrcq mostlyof Kamala,whicL the padreerplainedweretakenat diferent stagesin her developmentdespitea certain dilficulty arising from her dislike of being photographedand.her habit of turning awayher faceif shesawwhat wasbeingdone.And then the reluctantmodelappeared beforethem.Wearingaclean frock and accompanied by Mrs Singh,shewalkedon two legs*ith evidentdifficulty to the edgeof the blue flowen pattemedca{per,whereshe stoppedand stoodwith her long arms held awkwardlybeforeher and staredblanHy into the ring ofcurious faces. nWhenI lookedat Kamalar'Bishop Pakenham-Walsh later recalled,'I did not notice much differencebetween her andan ordinaryIndian girl ofher age.I wasnot on the look-outfor thosephysicaldifferencesofwhich I readlater in Mr Singh'sdiaryr'- unlikeRonaldBryanandsomeof the other studentswho askedto seeand wereduly shown the callouses on herelbowsandknees-'but I noticedfhat Kamalastoodquite still with no expressionof anysorton her face,until she wasaskedto sayher name,or until I pointedto an obiectand askedher what it was; then her facelit up with a sweetsmileandsheansweredquicklyand clearly in Bengali . . . But her face would immediately relapseinto a stateof expressionless immobility andif she were left aloneshe would prefer to go offto the darkest cornerandsit facingthe wall motionlessfor hours. . . She had an affectionfor Mrs Singh and was mostamenable to her directionsduringthetime I sawher.'6 After she had been taken away there was a cerain emount of discussionabout the significanceof the wolf childrenboth from a psychological anda religiouspoint of view. The studentsthought up endlessquestiongwhich
Singh did his best to answer: enthusiastic speorlations on how the children qrme to be with the wolves, how they managedto survive and whether or not they had souls, he met with the polite condescensionof one who had reached his own conclusions on the subject long ago. The Bishop, struck by the idea of the absenceof vice or virtue in the, children, suggestedit might have an important bearing on 'the considerationof what we mean by "original sin"'. Later on he would blame himself for not realizing at the time how great the scientific interest in Kamala would one day turn out to be and for not insisting even then that she be examined by medical experts. But he praised Singh and his wife for what they had done for Kamala and commended the keeping of the diary as a unique and valuable record which one day he should try to get published. The padre thanked the Bishop for his encouragement and, aking the opportunity to remind him of the awkward financial state in which the orphanage found itself, asked him to put in a good word for his 'life's work' with the D.B.M. in Calcutta. The Bishop promised to do what he could, and with that the party broke up: but not before the padre had once more received the assurance from his visitors that they would not mention what they had iust seen or heard to anyone. A few days later the camp dispersed and the Christian studenrs, having enjoyed a trouble-free, if hot and rain-sodden, holiday, returned to their respectivecolleges. In October the cold weather came in, a successionof crisp blue days,and life becamebearableagain. It was the time ofyear the ReverendSingh liked to spendvisiting his Santalsin the jungle villages,but this year he senr word that he was unable to come and concentratedinstead on gentler outdoor pursuits - he went snipe shooting and worked at his garden. It was there one day that he saw one of the younger children who had been playing near the gate fall and cut her knee. Before he could get to her he noticed Kamala comerunning back on all fours towards flre
r9o
19I
house,only to appearagainmomentslater bringing Mrs Singh to the sceneof the accidentand looking rather pleasedwith herself,asifshe knewshehad donethe right thing. The padre wonderedabout the incident, whether she had actedout of altruism or for herself.At times it seemedto him that sheshowednowa genuineaffectionfor the youngerchildren, respondingto their childish games and the love that a few of them gaveher; but then she would retreatoncemoreinto a cavernof isolationand he would be forced to recognizethat her relationswith the other orphanswere as distant as ever. The momentfor virtue, which he lookedfor in her as a vindicationofall their effortsto bring her backinto humansociety,had not yet arrived. The story of the wolf children of Midnaporebrokein the West on Friday zz October ry26. The Westminstn Gazette,a popularLondon dailg ran it on the front page under a four-ply heading:'Two childrenlive in a wolf's lair - Bishop'samazingstory- Girl whobarked- Ate with mouthin the dish'.BishopPakenham-Walsh's'narrative' then gave a more or less accurateaccount of how a ReverendJ. A. L. Singhhadrescuedtwo girls from wolves in the iungle, takenthem back to his orphanageat Midnaporeand tried to raise them as human children: it created,however,a misleadingimpressionthat theseevents hadoccurredrecently,not six yearsago. Anthropologicalexperts from the laboratory of kofessorG. Elliot Smith at UniversityCollegehadbeenconsultedby theGazetterbutwotldnot givethestorycredence beyondadmittingthat humanscansubsiston anyform of animel milk. Dr G. M. Vevers, Superintendentof the London Zoo, wasequallyscepticaland gavehis opinion that thewolveswouldprobablyhaveeatenthechildren.In its follow-up to the story next day, however,the Gazette producedmore positive statementsfrom Lady Dorothy Mills, 'a noted traveller', who had heard stories of monkey children in West Africa, and from Julian S.
Huxley, Professor of Zoology at King's C-ollege,'who ' thought the present case just feasible- it might be possible for a mother wolf to adopt human babies if she had iust lost her own cubst.T Instantly there was controversy: the Gazette knew how to keep its scoop alive. The story, in its own words, waswidely quotedin all the leadingAmericanpapers,whereit was giveu prominenceon front nevs pagesrnd arousedwidespreadinterestand discussion.Throughout Great Briain and the continent also, this remarkablerevelationat8actealFeat interest. Over British breakfastables yesterdaymorning it uns the principal topic ofconversation.Somepeoplecould not believe the phenomenonpossible; others, world travellers amongthem, related similar stories arising either from their own experienceor from their knowledgeof native customs,At clubs frequmted by big gamehuntersand erplorers it wasthe chief topic at the lunch table.s 'well-known' London club Over one lunch table in a discussionabout the wolf children becameso heatedthat it ended up with two membershauling offand punching each other. Again it was the Gazette's story and once more it went world-wide through Associated Press with the American papersrespondingenthusiasticallyto the'fisticufs in London club' angle. For the n€xt two or three days, letters poured into the Gaz*tte's offices expressing strongly-held opinions, taking sidesin tJle controversy and giving further instances of animal-reared children. But after printing a number of them and allowing the famous woman explorer, Mrs Rosita Forbes, and Lord Wolseley to air their views on the subiecq the Gazette quietly buried the story. In India, however,it had scarcelybeen born. It was not until r3 November 1926,some three weeksafter publication in the West, that the Stc tesmanin Calcutta printed the story almost word for word as it had appeared in the WestminsterGazette. Bishop Pakenham-Walshhad appafendy been interviewed by a Stausnan rpresentative lt
ry2
Bishop's C,ollegethe day before, but had added little to the 'narretive' original other than to confirm that the facts of the casewere tme . ' It is understood, ' the article concluded, 'that the case has strained the belief of cerain eminent home scientists, but the circumstances ane so reliably vouched for that they can leave no room for doubt.'e Two days later, on the morning of Monday 15 Nove(r ber, the Reverend Singh in Midnapore received a letter, from Bisho'p Walsh explaining and profoundly apologizing for what had happened. The padre, under the impression that he had been betrayed by an old friend, was relieved to learn that he had been over-hasty in his judgement. The Bishop himself was hardly Sorlty. As he explained in another letter some vears later: tft was an indiscreet relative of mine who was on the WestninsterGazenc st:tff in London, who saw a private letter of mine to a close member of my family at home, giving an account of the wolf children and who could not resist the temptation of good "copy", and got the story into the press,which led to its being reproduced in the Calcutta Stotesman.'toBut the damage,such as it was, had already been donel and therc was worse to come. That same afternoon the Reverend Singh received a visit from the Statesmanrsporter, accompaniedby a staff photographer, who had come out from Calcutta to intaview him and takepictures ofthe wolfchild. Still aggrieved, the padre was perhaps not as welcoming to the journalists as he might have been, but after some discussion he complied and relucantly told his story more or lessexactly as he had told it to theBishopand the studentstwomonths before, and as it had appearedin shortened form in newr papers all around the world. After producing Kamala, he answered a number of questions about her upbringing at the orphanageand finally was persuadedto pose with her and his wife for a group photograph in the garden. Before leaving, however, the reporter, who had done his homer93 , work, now suddenly confronted him with an earlier version
of the story which had appearedin the provincial pres shortly after Dr Sarbadhicarifirst leakedit to the Medinipur Hitaishi, and which attributed the rescueof the childrennot to him but to the peopleof the jungle.The padre could do no lessthan denythe insinuationin strongterms 'I and insist angrily that his versionwasthe correctone: assuredthem that this is the true story and all that they and the other paperswrote and re-lrrote beforethis were not partly true andI wasthe verypersonwhorescuedthem by diggingout the white ant moundwith the help of cultiall the peoplein vatorsfrom a distantvillage. . . because ttManush Bagha".trlHs that areawerescaredaboutthis also explainedthat until then he had not botheredto challengethe various false versionsin the local press, he hadwantedto avoidstining up morepublicity. because He omitted to explain that it was he himself who had given out the false version in the first place. However reasonable his motive,whetherit had beento protectthe children or his own reputation,the ReverendSingh was not the man to admit, especiallybefore the press, to havingtold a lie: it wasneither in his character,nor for t}ratmatterin the interestof the ChristianChurch. The next morning he discoveredthat the reporterhad of the truth. The not beenimpressedby his asseveration Statesrnan had giventhe story plenty of spaceand on the whole the interview had been fairly written up; bug whether out of malice or becausehe knew better, the reporter had opted for the llrong accountof the rescue. betweenthis He olferedno explanationfor the discrepancy and'theBishop'snarrative',whichtheSratesmanhad,puL lished two days before, other than to state that 'fuller detailsregardingthe finding of the child' had beenobained from the ReverendSingh.The padrewasfurious, but he alsoknewthat he hadbeencaughtout; trappedby ofhis owndistortionsofthe truth, hehad theconsequences redress against the calumniesof others. He decided no in protest.Latef, againstwriting a letter to the Statesmafl
r95
whenthe fuss(which againhe had no wish to exacerbate) had died down,he would askBishopWalshto producea shortstatementof the facts. Meanwhilehe cut out the article for his files. He also cut out a letter from a womanreaderprotestingagainstthe shootingof the motherwolf, and in the paper's'News in Pictures'section, a photograph of Kamalastandingby his side in the orphanagegarden with Mrs Singh seated nearby. It wasflankedby two cruelly appositepictures, one of a blank-lookingAmericansoldierwho had lost his memorythroughshellshockduring the War, andthe other a study of JackieCoogan,the child star, with a caption which zuggested thatahair-cutandlongtrousershaduansformed him into a youngman.Nothing so positivecould besaidfor Kamala'sappearance; theshavenhead,gingham frock and bell-metalbanglesonly underlinedher pathr tically unadroitstanceand the look of puzdedafflictionin her gaze.The Reverendand Mrs Singhno doubt sawher differendy. The divergencebetweenthe two rescuestoriesprinted by theStatesnandid not seemto worry its readersunduly or the editors of the other maior newspapersin British India, which ran eitheroneor the otherversionbut not both. Therewerea few lettersfrom the sce,ptical, but most publishedofferedaccountsof similar of thecorrespondence casesofwolf, bearand evenleopardchildrendatingfrom the previouscentury; on the domesticfront and more recendy there was a story of a pariah dog which had nurseda child in C,eylon.I,etters,too, beganto pour into the orphanagefrom all over the world, askingfor more information,congranrlatingor criticizing Singhfor rescuing the childrenfrom the wolves,offeringadviceandoccasionallyfinancialassistance or simply expressingwonder. At first the padrefelt it washis dury to answerthem all, giving priority to communicationsfrom Scientistsand but the volumeof correspondence academics, wasoverwhelmingand in despairSingh had to aska friend of his,
Mr Jena, of the Midnapore Chy Prcss,to run offcopies ofe standard letter entitled 'A Short Sketch of the Wolf Children Diaryl, which he sent together with an outline history of the orphanage in reply to the most serious inquiries. The cost of posage, however, soon becarnp prohibitive and many of the letters had to go unanswered. Bishop Pakenham-Walsh, with all the practicality of an Irish churchman, advised him only to answer letters thrt held out promise of a subscription to the orphanage. Among those that did receive a reply, a letter from Paul C. Squires, ProfessorofJurisprudence at the University of C,alifornia" opened a correspondence which was to haye unexpected repercussions. The wolf children were the talk of Calcutta and, as Singh had anticipated, it was not long before the crow& found their way back to the orphanageand were clamourr' ing at the gate, demanding to seeKamala. As often as not he would oblige them, but sometimes, sickened by the circus atmosphere that had once more invaded his cornpound, he lost his temper and drove the people away. The more distinguished visitors he nearly always managed to accommodate;for although annoyedby this secondround of publicity and the trouble it had caused him, the Reverend Singh was not altogether immune to seeing hb own name- the name of 'a humble Indian Missionary'as hc sometimesreferred to himself - writ so large before the eyesof the world. It had also_occurredto him that in the long run the orphanage milht benefit from becoming famous. If so, then Kamala would turn out to be the saviour of the institution which had zuccoured her: and that surely could only be the work of Providence. And who was he, a humble missionary, to oppose the will of God? r9 December 1926.'It was noticed that Kamala stealthily ate raw meat, somehow managing to enter the kitcheR to stealit.'12
C.hapterNine
A gentleman from Bombay had written to the Reverend Singh otrering to cure Kamala by FIet yoga: he suggested simply hanging her upside down-until her-hu*an faculties returned. The padre took him seriously. Trextment to increasebrain power: early in tllc morning every dayI usedtotakeherinto myroom endastedoneortwogxowrF men to help me. I fixed a peg on the wdl and had a noose !p fup-i We tool ber up by her legsand put oneleg in the noow : and held the other leg, having my left hand free.-ptaceda soft lstlm on the ground for her headto rest on. I kcpt my left hend on her forehead,passingthe haad from side to side. I commenced this processcountingfortwo minutesandgradually increasedthe period up to fifteen minutes. This treamrent helpedher to grow her brain facultiesnoticeably.l Encouraged perhaps by the interest and concern being . shoS by many people in Kamah's welfare, Singh{ -so optimism had once more taken wing. Hc began to see progress in dl that she did and said; her prattling and broken speech seemedto him more distincrthan *fore, her puakah-pulling more adepg wen her walking had somewhat improved; she was discovered trying to ake water from a buctet in a clumsy attempt at washing her_ self, and her fits of temper were no longer seeaas outbursts of rage from some unknowable frustration but heartening evidence of human emotion and involvement. She wai becominga person,even .a sweet,obedientchild,. And no doubt in rnany respectsthe signs were encouragrng,yet an element of fanusy had crept in somewhere _-borrowed, perhaps, from the outside world. A lctter hed arrived
rsking for Kamala'shand in marriage:Ranian Ghoul, fourth yearB.A. studentat SeramporeCollege,claimedto havc been struck with pity for her after readingof the Thepadre' neverfindahusband. Singhs'fearthatshewould uncertainof whetheror not he wasbeingmadethe victirn ofa joke,politely declinedtheoffer.Anotherletter heldout the prospect of fame and fortune: Madan Theatres Companyof Calcuta hadcomeup with the ideaof making a film about the wolf child: after seeingtheir representative, Singh turned the offer down. Kamalaneverbecame a starof the silverscreenlbut shedid meetthe Viceroy,or to be exact,a formerViceroy.Lord Lytton, now Governor of Bengal, had sent word through his Aide-de-Camp, C,ountJ. de Salis,that he would be visiting Midnaporeon rr February ry27 andwouldlike to makethe acquaintance of the wolf child.2The ReverendSinghwrotebackat once on her behalfto saythat shewouldbe honoured. As it turned out the visit wasdeferreduntil November. By a curiouscoincidenceon rr Februarya seriousstrike erupted in the Kharagpur worlshops, and the station, wherethe Governorhadbeendueto arrive,wastakenovet by an unruly mob of railwayworkers.FortunatelyRobert Reid, the District Magistrate,happenedto be saying in Kharagpurat fhe time, makingthe best of a rare opportunity for relaxatisn- Kharagpurunlike Midnaporewrut blessedwith electricity,amusementfacilities and a large populationof Europeanofrcers- whenhe wascalledfrom the cinemato dealwith the situation.It took all night and a coupleof roundsof police fire beforethey managedto clearthe stationpremises,and againit wasthe A.F.I. who cameto the rescue,only this time the D.M. did not call them out: an enthusiasticAnglo-Indian officer iust happenedto be exercisinghis companythat night andhurried straightto the spotat the first signoftrouble. Later the use of the A.F.I. and their allegedbrutalitieswould be the subjectof commentin the Legislatureandin the nationalist press;in the meantimethe A.F.I. had to bekept out for a
weekuntil thry couldberelievedby zooEasternFrontier Rifles.The strikespreadto a numberof placeson the Bengal-NagpurRailwaybeforethe C,ompany met someof the workers' demands,but despite delays and upset schedulesthe trains were kept running. Many believed the strike had beeninspired by nationalists,others tJrat therehad beena plot to kill the Governorwhich had mirsfued because ofa changeof plans. Closerto home,if not to reality, the ReverendSingh becameconvincedthat Mohammedanrailwaystrikershad stolen his favourite dog, a white mongrel with black patchesoverits earand oneeye,answeringto'Laddy'. He notifiedthe police,but Laddy wasneverseenagainandthe padre,who could be sentimentalaboutanimals,mourned him asa casualtyof terrorism.
rgg
One morning Kamalawasheardsingingin the garden, a soft atonaldrone,scarcelydistinguishablefrom the white backgroundnoiseof cicadasand the gentlemurmuringof doves.Shewaschantingwordsand nonsense to herselfas shewalkedunderthe trees. Then singingbecamea habit with her andfor a time she wasscarcelyeverquiet, so muchabsorbedin her incanations that nothing could distract her and she had to be takenby the handbeforeshewouldstop.The Singhs,who were a musical family, welcomedthe developmentand tried to encourageher to ioin in their Tuesdaysessions of hymnandcommunitysingingaroundtheharmoniumin the drawing room, but Kamala's only contribution was to shoutoccasionally at thetop ofher voiceon a shrill quavering note.Apart from this dramaticincreasein volumeshe madeno response whatsoever to the music,nor showedany interestin the dancingthat sometimesaccompanied it. As Mrs Singh put it: 'Kamala did neverimitate dancingor singingor mwic after shewasgivena chanceto attendit at the orphanage,nor did sheever inquire or ask any to repeatany of these. . .'3 And after a time shegaveup
singrng privately too, as if the improvised rnentras htd lost their charm as well as their power to shut out the rest of the world. There was some indication, however, that the need to keep and conserve her own company was diminishing and that she was at last beginning to turn away from morbid preoccupation with herself. She was becoming more assertive and at the same time more reactive, though not necessarily amenable, to the will of others: a truculen! almost comic, confidence in her own abilrty - the certainty that she could do anything and that whatever she did was bound to be perfbctly right - made her as difficult but as encouraging to deal widr as a rebellious twoand-a{nlf year old. Ifshe determined on a course ofaction thete was no stopping her and when things went wrong only omsionally would she let herself be helped by anyone but Mrs Singh. The other children, some of whom were quite grown up, treated Kamala more or less as the orphanage pet; kind enough to her in their way (apart from tfie teasing) and lookingafter her as much as she would allow them to, they had also learnt when not to interfere. On one occasion when Kamala was attempting to tie the cord of her pyjamas and having very litde successwith it, none of the children offered to lend a hand. Only when she began to weep with frustration did one of the older girls try to help, but Kamala would not have it and ran offto find Mrs Singh. As it happened she was out and Kamala had to ake her problem to the padre. The Reverend Singh discoveredher standing behind his desk - she had entered his office without making a sound - holding up her pyjamas with both hands and letting the tears roll silently down her cheeks.He askedher what was the matter, but she refused to answer; then Manica" the gid who had prezumed to help her, arrived on the scene and explained what had occurred. The padre reassured Kamala that no one was going to take her pyjamas away from her and asked Manica to tie them up for her in his presence,
which seemed at once to satisfy her sense of propriety and to banish the shame of her failurc to menagethe knot hersel{, for she now gladly let Manica perform the operr tion and went of with her afterwards as if nothing hed happened. Kamala had little aptitude for gemes or playing with toys. 'We persuadedher to playr'Mrs Singh recalled, and that too, with ba[s. When we raised tlrc ball before her and explainedthe way how she should roll tle ball, shetlren could do so. In doing so shc used to srnile and we could feel that shewassmiling in her deeve.She did not play with blocls hcrself. When the other children usedto teach her how to do it with the blocks,she usedto makeround figures with them. Sometimesshe could do so, somctimesshe could not. If slre was given a slate with a perrcil to write, she used to scrstch anything and everything with the pencil. She did not at all fike this nor could she do anything elsewhen slre wasgiven a sletewith Bengalilettersto copy.a Although she rard played by henelf, she would watch tle other children's g'amesand .now and then make an unwelcome contribution. Once when the children were playing a game of arranging their toyq mostly rag doils and tin soldiers, in a line on the floor, Kamala causedan uproar by collecting all the red ones and quietly removing them to her corner. Mrs Singh was sent for to settle the dispute and at once askedwho had takcn the red dolls. Kamala said nothing and moved away to her corner where the dolls lay in an untidy heap. The children began to complain and accusedher openly, but when Mrs Singh approached her Karn4la pointed at the dolls proudly as if she had done something rather magnificent. She was made to give the toys back, but later received from Mrs Singh some red dolls of her own and a wooden box in which to keep them. The present seemedto give her pleasureand after the box had been put away in the almirah she ran offon all fours to tell the other children: 'Bak-Poo.Voo' (Baksa-PootoolVootara, Beng:ali for 'Box-Doll-'Inside), repeating the
- until the children phrase- her first threc word sentence hadto askher to stop. By the end of March rgzT the steadyflow of visitorsto tbe orphanagewho cameto seeKamalahad last begunto fall off On 6 April, however,the Pioneerreportedthe crpture of anotherwolf child from a cavenearMaiwana, someseventymilesfrom Allahabad.Both the timing (only five monthssincethe publicity over the Midnaporecase) of the discoveryindicated circumstances andthesuspicious that the Maiwanawolf boy wasprobablya fake, but the Indian press,anxiousnot to be scoopedagainby the rest of the world on its own news stories,gavethe casefulI covgrege. As well asprovokinga month-longcorrespondenccin the letter pagesof the London Tizes, which until now had remainedalooffrom the recentexcitementover wolf children,the Maiwanaboy kept interestin the to'pic alivein India and asa result the orphanageat Midnapore continued to be pesteredby the curious. Despite his deterioratingfinancialsituationand BishopWalsh'spragmatic advice,Singh still refusedto derrand moneyfrom thosewho wantedto seeKamala,but he wasnot above acceptinggifts for her or donationsto the orphanageif they wereofered. He wasalsosensibleenoughto takea certain amount of trouble with thosevisitors who were likely to be generous.In thesecaseshe usuallyextended an invitation to tearafterwhich Kamalawasbroughtin to performher party piece. l[rs Geea Malli( a former residentof Midnaporenow living in Calcutta,remembersgoingto seeKamalaat the Singhs'orphanage in April of rgz7. Shewasaccompanied by her motherand brother,who alsorememberthe occasionthoughperhapsnot asvividly asGeeta,then a bright and impressionable fourteenyearold. As membersof one of the foremostfamiliesliving in Midnaporeat that time, they weregiventhe grandtreatmentby the Singhs,which wasplainly resentedby the childrenwho wereimpatientto seeKamala.When they had finished tiffin and she was
finally sent for, confrontationbetweenthesetwo girls of similaragesandwidelydiffering backgrounds madea deep impression on oneof them: I shallneverforgether.Shecamein walkingratherawkwardly and stood in a corner. She was thin and scraggywith curly, closecropped hair and a very sullen expression.She wore e white dress and silver bangleson her arms. The Revcrend Singhtold her to say'Namaskar',the Bengaliform of greeting, and she was able to do so, putting her handstogetherin the @rrect rnanner as in prayer, but when he asked her sotrre questionssherefusedto answer.She iust zuckedher hand and glaredat us. I rememberthe strangecontrastofher neatlitde frock and bangles,and the wild expressionin her eyes.It was very disturbing. She had a number of sores,rather like tmango boils', on her arms and legs and the scarsof other soresand scratches that had healedup. Shelicked at the soresthe way a dogmight until the ReverendSinghtold her nor to. He explainedthat botl the wolfchildren had sufferedfrom thesesoreswhen he first found tlrem in tle jungle, and that althoughthey had managcd to clearthem up, Kamalastill had trouble with them. While we were talking she suddenlywent dofln on all fours but quickly stood up again when the ReverendSingh correctedher. He was kind witl her but stricg and she seemedrather afraid of him. He told us he believed she resentedhim for having capturedher. Then she left us at his bidding, welking in oo unsteadymanner.s
203
I
According to Mrs Mallik the padre talked much of the progressthat Kamala had made since she had been at 'The Home', but did not try to deny the wild side of her nature, still apparent in her general bearing and persistent habits, which he described,ofscratching hersel{,eating sand and pebbles, rolling in the dirt and occasionally making 'animal'noises at night. This doesnot contradict but is in contrast to the tone ofhis diary account for the last three yea^rsof Kamala's life in which Singh stressesftoth for t€arionsof mild propaganda and becauseit is what interested him) the more positive :rspectsof her behaviour.
Thereareremindersof a bleakerrdrty, but they.re rue and cryptic and if one considersthat Singh, and indeed BishopWalsh,believedKamala'sprogressto beduepardy at leastto the sacramentof het baptism,he hadreasonnow thedarkphaseof an to'wantto playdown,if not suppress, existenceu'hich could usefully be seento representthe Christianideaof the fleshthet struggleswith the spirit, of the darknessthat brings forth light, and ofthe grotesgue whichreachesuptottrezublime. Yet therewassomethingmore.Kamala"who hrd never shown the slightest fear of thunder or lightning - on z8 April a violent storm that turned the sky over Midnaporeblackwith dustandbroughtthe mangofruit crashing from the treeshad no more effecton her than hithemowasbadly frighteneda weeklater by the ReverendSingh firing his grrnin the orphamgegarden.'As soonas, . . the report washeard,Kamalawas seenrunning on all fouts very fasttowardsthe kitchenwhereMrs Singhwass€at4 andtried to hidehersclfbehindher.'6Singhdoesnot offer anyexplanationasto how shecameto be afraidofgunfire; no doubt the shot had simply sarded her. But wasthere not a remotepossibilitythat sherecognizedthe sound,that the last time shehad heardit at closequarterswasseven yearsbeforethroughthe mouthof the white-antmoundin the forest of Denganalia,and that the barrageof arrows which brought down her foster-motherhad beenbacked up by a rifle shot? One can only speculate,but the atmosphere of guilt which cloudedthe padre'srelationship with Kamalais far from coniecturalandthe needto iustiS her capturefrom the wolvesin terms of a successfulre' cntry into humansocietymayalsohaveaffectedthe biasof hisrecord. Kamalais depictedassloughingoffthe attributesof her animalpast.When shepassesby the orphanagedogsnow at feedingtime not only do they bark at her asthey would at any other child, but she takesfright and goesround anotherway, giving them a wide berth. The ties of their
formeralliancearebroken.Somepuppiesaregivento her to play with but she rejectsthem angrily. She doesnor stea.lmeatany more, evenwhen it is left lying a[ day on the dining-roomtable.Assumptionsabout her behaviour are beginning to be proved wrong. One afternooniust beforeschoolfinishesfor the day, she climbs inside the hen-houseand closesthe door. At four o'clock the bell goesand dre children detailedto collectthe eggson that day- a regularorphanage routine,whichKamalahadbeen observingfor sometime - arrive at the hen-houseto find the wolf child in residence.Everyoneexpectsher to have eatenall the eggs,but it turns out that she has merely heapedthem in a cornerand whenMrs Singh,ignoringa few breakages, praisesher for doinga goodjob, Kamalais delightedwith herselfand struts about,as the Reverend Singh suggests,'like a great hero who had gaineda big victoryl Over her own natureor the prejudiceof othersl It hardly matt€rs.A few weekslater a chickenis found deadin the hen-house.The padredoesnot for a moment entertainthe suspicionthat Kamalamight havekilled it, but points out that when offeredit to eat sherefusesand whenthe carcass is deliberately put out in anobviousplace she makesno attemptto re8ieve it. The batdehas been won, but one gets the uncomforablefeeling that in the processKamalahasbeencanonized. FortunatelyMrs Singh is there to restorethe balance with her simplebut candidline on Kamala'stotal ineptitude for housework Ifshe wasaskedto put fuel into an oven,sheusedto place
205
heaps of fuel into thc oven" with the result that the fire was extinguished. She was once given [some utensils to clean] after she was instructed how to do it. She did not only do it, but also besmear her whole body with asheswith which the utensils were to be washed. Shc never knew how to sew' onc€ I tried to have it donc by her. But it was a vain attempt. She could not learn it at all. She twisted tle tlread along the piece of cloth she was given to
sw. Lateron shedid Dottry anyfurthcr, I tcalizedshcvas unwillingto do itz The pictureof her unwillingnessandinability to cooperate seemssomehowsolid and reassuringafter the padre's eulogizing,but in fact he doesno worsethan overstatehis case.Clearlyit is of the greatestimportanceto him that she in shouldbeseento be saved.And soshewill be.Whereas the pastKamalaalwayshadto be forcedto cometo morning andeveningserviceandwouldsit by herselfawayfrom the other children (who used to teaseher and call her 'heathen'),now shecameregularlyof her own accordand sator knelt in a line with everyoneelse.Singhrecognized her presencethere as the acme of his achievementta witnessto the domitablespirit of the uttermostpagan. Kamalahad begunto identify to a limited extent with the other orphans.Shestill spentmuch of her time alone and out of reach,sunk in irredeemablevacuity, but the of her own individuality (as much kindling awaf,eness evident in her ability, for example,to recognizeand retrieveher own clothesfrom a mixedpile of washingasin her dislikeofbeing helpedto do so)allowedher to establish herselfin relationto the group.Sheformedno strong ties or friendships,but there were signs now that she wantedto take part, evento conform. On one occasion, whenttre other children went to marketand shewasleft behind with Mrs Singh, she grew very upset and could only be consoledby the promisethat on the next day she would be takento the market by herselfwhile the other childrenwould haveto remainat home.Anothertime, standingat the dining-roomtable while it wasbeinglaid to be givena biscuitby Mrs Singh. for tea,shehappened She ran off and showedit to the other children who immediatelycameto Mrs Singh and askedfor the same treatment,but they weretold to go awayand wait for the tea-bell.Displayingwhat the ReverendSinghbelievedto be a truc feelingfor fair plaS lGmala then replacedher zo6
ownbiscuiton the tableandwentawayuntil it wasrimefor tea. It seemsmore likely that she simply mizunderstood what wassaidto the others,thinking Mrs Singh'sinstructionsalsoincludedher,but afterthebell whenthechildren all rushedinto thedining-roomandweregiventwo biscuits each,Kamalaonly took one from Mrs'Singh and then pickedup the otherfrom the tablewhereshehadleft it. The story wastold to visitors,who readilyacceptedthe ReverendSingh'sinterpretationof Kamala'smotivesand werecharmedby the notion of a reformedwolf child with tendenciesthat were not only Christian but distincdy British in character.Among thosewho no doubt would haveappreciatedthe anomalywasthe Governorof Bengal who came to Midnapore at last on zz Novemberand stayedovernightat Circuit Housein the middleof the old racecourse. Betweenholding a durbar,attendinga garden party in his honourandinspectinga varietyofinstitutiong tord Lytton foundtime to paya privatevisit to the S.P.G. orphanage,where for the price of a discussionwith the ReverendSingh on the future of India and a goodnaturedpromiseto heedhis warningsaboutthe threat of terorism, he had the pleasureof meetingthe wolf girl. Although no detailedrecord of the Governor'svisit survives, memoryhasit that Kamalabehavedexceptionally well, as befitted the occasion,and gavethe padre good reasonto beproudofher.
2s7
Earlyin r9z8 the ReverendSinghreceivedconfirmation of a rumourthat a certainelementamongthe Midnapore Church Committee,which for sometime now had withheld full support for their parish priest, had expressed their dissatisfaction with him in a letter to the Secrearyof the.S.P.G.and the DiocesanBoardof Missionsin Calcutta.It wasby no meanstheir first attemptto undermine him but this time, it seemed,his enemiesweremakinga concertedefort to get rid of him altogether.Normallythe petty squabblesand intriguesof Church C-ommitrees, the
minute iostting for position that was corunon practioe in rrost of the smaller, more out of the way Indian Christian oommunities, were paid little heed by the diocesan and missionary authorities. They had Ieernt to accept it as 'all a part oflndian life' and that it did not necessarilyreflect on the competenceof the priest-in-chargg though ineviably more trouble occurred where the priest was an Indian rather than a European. But in this case the Secretaryof the S.P.G., Arthur Balcombe,happenedto be a man who never let a single complaint or hint of indiscipline go by him without a full investigation. To make maffers worse, Balcombe and Singh did not like eachother. Indeed, Father Balcombe was not an easy man to like. He belonged to a new breed of European missionaries, d""ply committed to tle recendy created Church of India (the Anglican C,ommunion in India became autonomous, with a general council as its supreme governing bodR by the Act of tgz7, which took effect in r93o), but like so many who ake a new causeto heart, lacking in tolerance towards those who still espousethe old. In the Reverend Singh he saw a horrible caricature of the jingoist mentality which he was committed to stamping ouq for he held the radical view that the domination of the western missionary with his hard and fast western vision of Cbrist and western methods of worship, a religious literature with the excrption of the Bible produced wholly by w€stern minds, had prevented the Indian Church from making any real contribution to the interpretation of Christ and the application of His message to the needs of modern IndiaBalcombe was determined to communicate his ideas to drose missionarieswho cameunder his control. 'In those dayg' the Right Reverend Ronald Bryan recalls, missionarieswere still more or lessa law unto themselvesand what they did in their own fields, the methodsthey used and the ceremoniestlrey adoptedor edaptedvaried considerably. The Missionary Soci*ies werc yery independent and as a result the Scsetaries had r great d€al of power since tlrey
zo8
cmtrolled tle mo,neydnt dreir clergyreceived.In this reed a man like Father Balcornbcwas really a bit of a tyrant. Atthough he 'went Indian' himself he was very hard on tic Indian Clergy. After e few yearsin the field they did tend to vegetate,but they were so hard up that they had to do other tlings like keepmga few chickenssimply in order to eurrivg though of courscif ttreir work zuffered,then Baloombcwould cornedown on thern-8
2q
A keen reforrner full ofenergy and ambitious plans for the hopelessask of reorganizing the vast mission fieldsrnd revializing his weary and disaffected workers, Baloombe had little appreciation of the arr of the possible and no senseof humour to extenuate inevitable failure and disappointment. His was the sort of temperament which by dl rights should not do well in a tropical climate but, unfortunately for those who came under his sway, Father Balcombe seemedto thrive in Bengal. He was.a tall, thin man with an ascetic air about him, which was heavily underscored by his atrecting the dressofe Sadhu or Hindu holy man; permanendy got up in saffron'robes, Ionghi trnd shirg wearing his hair shoulder-length with a full beard, he went everywhere barefoog his only concessionto the climate being a largesolatopi,ftomunder which he peered out at the world whitefaced and disapprovrng throug{r a pair of steel-rimmed spectacles. To someone like Padre Singh, whose idea of heaven on earth was a good day's shooting followed by a quiet time in his favourite armchair with his dogs at his feet and perhaps a glassof port wine at his elbow, smoking a pipe and listening to the songs of Harry Lauder on the phonograph, Arthur Balcombe was anathema, The ineviable clash between the two men came in February 1928, when Father Balcombe visited Midnapore at the request of the rebellious Church, Committee and, investigating their complaints, found Singh guilty of neglecting his duties in respecf of both his missionary work and his parish. The issues have since become bluned by
time, but it seemslikely, allowing for personalanagonism" that the accusationwas iustified in somc dcgree. Whether for reasonsof ill-health (h" *as an incipient diabetic,thoughhis conditionhadnot yet beendiagnosed), financiatdistressor simply missionfatigue,the Reverend Singhhad aken things rathermoreeasilyin recentyears. He had cut down on his long missionarytrips into the iungle, which had once been a causefor dissatisfaction amongthe membersof the Church Committee;in itself a sensibleenoughmove for a man of fifty-five, who was alreadybeginningto ageunder the inexorabletoll ofthe tropics: but he wasalsolosingtouch with the moreaccessibie Christian centresand villagesn the nofussil and many of his former convelts were going over to the AmericanBaptists.At home,too, in Midnapore he had allowedthe Baptiststo gainground,giving waybeforethe oftheir newChevroletchapelbusand superiortechnology the indefatigablespirit of their supporterswho were alwaysmeetingtrainswith biblesandleafletsor organizing Bandof Hopepicnicsby the river. But he no longermindHe wasevenon fairly goodterms with ed so desperately. the residentBaptistmissionary.A portrait of the Reverend John A. Howard, his wife and children, an unbearably wholesome-lookingfamily, had found a place on his mantelpiecein deferenceto the good-naturediniunction thangus up whereyou canseeus'printed on the backof still irked him, but the photograph.Their competitiveness he had lost his resolutionfor the struggleand wascontent to reservehis energyfor the lessdemandingtasksoflookand carryingon the work of the ing after his congregation In spiteof the alarmingdebtsit wasbeginning orphanage. 'The Home' (largely to incur, he continuedto regard becauseit was his own creationand conveniendyat the centreof his existence)as the most important part of his iob, a lastingcontributionto the conversionofSantaliaand the crowningachievementof his ministry. In this as in most things Balcombedid not agreewith
2tr
him and informed Singh blundy that he thought it was time he made way for a younger man who could handle what wasundeniablya largeand onerousparish.He would recommend to the Bishop that he be transferred to Geonkhali, a trading station on the banks ofthe Hooghly, where there was a small, manageable Christian community of Portugueseorigin, which stood in urgenr need ofa pastor. In the meantime, since he was no longer going out on tour, his travel allowance was to be cut and the orphanagq which after all he had started on his own initiative, would receive no further grants from the S.P.G. or the Local Mission Endowment Fund until his transfer, when it would haveto be closeddown. The Reverend Singh had a strong inclination to throw Balcombe, bare feet, saffron togs, pith helmet and all, out into the street, but fortunately he restrained himself. He had no intention, however, of giving up without a fight and immediately set about enlisting the support of his congregation and a number of Midnapore's highly placed nor Christians,men such as Dr Sarbadhicariand the Rajah of Narajole, who agreed to make representations to Father Balcombe, and if need be to the Bishop in Calcuta, in favour ofretaining their priest. There can be no doubt that Singh was widely popular among his parishioners; Balcombe returned to Calcuta impressedin spite of himself; but he did not hesitate to reporr his findings to Bishop Westcott and recommend the proposed transfer to Geonkhali. The Reverend Singh, meanwhile, had asked hib friends on the District Board of Missions to pur in a god word for him and at the sametime had appealedhimself to the Metropolitan on numerous grounds including the wild but rather appropriate charge that Balcombe was victimizing him becausehe was an Indian. The Bishop, a kind and sagaciously fair man, while appreciating Father Balcombe'smany qualities, had no illusions about his shortcomings (and the same applied ro the Reverend Singh); but he saw no sensein transferring a perfecdy adequatc
prhst, even if he was past hb best as a missionary, and causing him a great deal of misery when anyway he would be due for retirement in a few years' time. He turned the rccommendation down and although he shared many of Bahombe's views on the future of the Church in India he could not resist zuggesting to him with gentle irony that perhaps Mr Singh might have done better if he had sp€nt a little longer under the zupervision of a European Missionary, when he fust went into the field. In Midnapore the Bishop's verdict was received with feelings of relief and of vindication by Singh; but over the question ofthe travel allowance and the orphanage grant, Balcombe had won, and the prospect of budgeting for an irstitution that was already deep in debt on a substantially reduced income filled him with despair. How the orphanage had originally got into financial difficulties is not altogether clear, but there had never been even the remot€st prospectofkeeping it gorngon the salaryofan Indian missionary, which was scarcelyenough to keep rwo people 'The Home' alive, let alonethirty. The Singhshad started with their own money and zurvived with the help of a Fant from the S.P.G. and charity from the people of Midnapore, depending especially upon the generosity of the European community, which unfortunately had dwindled in recent years to barely a handful of officials. It was nrost likely the failure of this source as well as the padre's somewhat ambitious building and improvement schemes and an almost aristocratic attitude towards rnon€y, which combined to put him in debt. Nor can there bc any doubt that although the Singhs lived simply enough according to their needs, they had started out on a quite different scaleof expectancyto the families of most Indian clergy. But apart from tlreir grand ideas,the cost offeeding clothing and schooling twenty or more children over dre last fifteen years had insured that now and for the rest of their lives they would be beset by financial worries. And if the Revcrend Singh imagined that. he could take some
2r2
comfort at l€ast in the security of his [ving he would find out soon enough that his repriwe by the Bishop had been only temporary.
r3
A letter arrived - an invitation from the Psychological Society of New York to bring Kamala to America. The Itcture Bureau wanted Reverend Singh to undertake a tour of the United States et their expense,accompanying 'Kamala, the wolf child', and appearwith her beforetheir audiences to tell the story of her life to the American people. Ifthe offer reeked a little ofthe fair-ground, from which he had tried to protect Kamala for so long, the padre had a vision of the New World - formed by his own experienceof the vast wealth of the local Baptiss, the unforgotten generosity of his Episcopalian friend from Boston, the ReverendPercy Webber, and heightenedperhaps by the fabled visit ofVivekananda, the Bengali poet and philosopher,whoseportrait againsta back-dropofthe New York sky-line, captioned 'The Hindu Monk', was hanging on his drawing-room wall - a vision of bright opportunity that was as yet unclouded by the dangers of exploitation. He saw the lights going up on a new ciueer: the public speaker,once awarded a gold medal for oratory at CJlcutta University, f€ted again and lionized (with Kamala at his side) acrossthe world: and for a moment he considered the idea seriously, convinced that God was presenting him with a unigue chance to restore the fortunes ofthe orphanage.But the euphoria was short-lived for he knew already, even before consulting Dr Sarbadhicari and Dr Santra, that Kamrla's health, which in the last few months had sadly deteriorated, would never permit her to travel. A little regretfully perhaps he wrote back to the PsychologicalSociety declining their offer. Kamala continued to be unwell for the remaining two years of her life with only occesional remissions from a condition which the doctors were ncver able to diagnose satisfactorily. Unfortunately the Revercnd Singh made no
$tempt to plot thecourscandsymptomsof her illnessor its treatmentand any casenotestaken by the doctorshave long sincebeen lost. Apart from the padre'sbrief diary accountand the recordsoftheir deathsin the Registerof Burialsat St John'sChurch,Midnapore,all that existson the wolf children'smedicalhistory is a generalstatement by Dr Sarbadhicari,which givesno morethan his opinion that both girls died of kidney failure and that this was probablycausedby their inability to get usedto a normal diet. The possibilityof someanatomicabnormalityof the kidneyshaving developedas a result of their living with wolveswhich, if not the direct causeof illnessmight have madethemproneto renalinfection,seemstohaveoccurrtd 'As a post mortem to the doctor, yet he statesblandly: examinationw:rsnot made,the struchrralandpathological sate of the kidney andotherorganswasnot ascertained.'e And revealingmoreperhapsof hisownlimitationsthanhe intended,he continued: Therewasgreetdifficultyin feedingthe gul (Kamala)with a mixeddiet . .. the acquiredinstinctof takingrawanirnalfood animalwasretainedup to the by beingrearedby a carnivorous madeto return to a normalhuman Iastthoughall attemptsvrrere diet. The progressof educationwasvery stowowing in part to the heredity of the subject(from Aboriginal tribes) and alsoto nutritional defects,not contributing to the proper hormonal firnction. In my opinion if the unfortunate wolf girls could havebeen. . . inducedto takea propermixed diet with properly adiustedviamins, improvementwouldhavebeenmoremarked.ro It is interesting to note that in a casewhich was to become famous as an illustration of the effects of exueme environmental impact on development, Dr Sarbadhicari seemsto rttach more importance to Kamala's primitive ancestry than to the influence ofthe wolves (except insofar as they aught her to eat the wrong kind of food), but the Aryan prejudice of Hindus against the original dark-skinned inhabitants of India is asold astheir history. The Reverend Singh, like the British, viewed the tribal peoples with
2
r5
affection and a certain respect for their independencg which ironically they owed largely to the Hindu policy of apartheid. In his insistence on the significance of the wolf children's failure to achievea balanceddiet the doctor may have been on safer ground, but any discussionon the sub. iect is limited, in Kamala's cese at least, by the lack of exact information about her eating habits during the last few years of her life. Singh implies a slow but steady progression from the days when she would take nothing but milk and raw m€at to an acceptanceof a mixed diet, giving a few instancesofthe gradual refinement ofher palate, but he doesnot describe the diet fully at any time, nor doeshe state finally whether or not raw meat was struck of the menu. A reasonableassumption, supported by the doctor's statement, would be that considerableefforts were made at all stagesofher development to suppress her carnivorous habits, but that on the whole they failed and that during the period when she was not allowed meat, Kamala's diet may have been inadequate to her needs. But it is unlikely that it producedthe symptomsof her final illness.Whether Kamala and Amala succumbed to diseasethat stemmed directly (asin the caseofparasitic infestation), or indirectly (possibly a lowered resistance to certain infections) from their existence with the wolves, or whether it was purely coincidence that both children died of renal failure, re mains unanswerable.There is only the certainty that their deathswere premature and the likelihood that the traumas of rehabilitation to tl-resociety of first wolves and then men were in part responsible. The doctors put Kamala on different diets and prescribed various medicines but they seemto have had little effect.Although the Singhs'strictly followed the direction of the doctors', Kamala's health did not improve. Yet there were times, as far as can be made out from Singh's summary account of the period, when she was well enough to lead a 'normal' existence- times during which, he suggests, Kamela 'grew in mind and in human character',
though Bishop Palcenham-Walsh, on the strength,of a shortsecondvisit to the orphanagein the summerof 1928, sErceptthatshehadlearnta good sawlittle improvement: runy morewords,I did not noticeanymentalchange.'11 As a'human charactert, too,strebeginsnowto fadefrom the pagesof Singh'sdiary. Possiblythe obscurationis delibenate, becauseshehad becomea disappointmentto him, or becausehe felt responsiblefor her deterioration- a reminderof his failure to give her backher humanity;but most likelg as his own life becamemore difficult and Kamala'srelatively normal, he simply lost interest. He recordsoneincidenqhowever,prior to her terminalillness from which the wolf girl's personalityemergesclearlyand touchingly;asalways,e little lessthan humanbut tragically more than animal. It wasJuly of r9z8 and Kamala" who no longerliked to go out at night, had beentakenfor a morningwalk. We took all the childrenand Kamalata the moid,on tn fte momingandheavyraincarneon.Weall gotwet.The children couldnot run asfastasKamalaon all fours,andwehadto lag behindandgetwet.Kamalaranin quicklybut cameout again to meetus;thissherepeated several timesto findthatwecould not get in with her and were getting wet. Kamala got irritated to such an extent that when we came in long after Kamala had gotten in, we found her in a corner; and, ifany oftle children welt to her, she waved her hand roughly at them to drive them awty.\2
And there shemust remain,bowedand solitaryin her favourite corner, until almost exacdy a year later on Sunday7 July tgzg, when sheis briefly resurrectedin a yellowing but sharply defined photograph from the memoryof PunoChandraGanguly,at the time a ten-yearold boy andsonof oneof Midnapore'spremierChristian families.It showsKamalaattendinga serviceat St John's Church,sittingon the right handsideof the aisle,up in the front pew with all the other childrenwherethe Reverend Singhcankeepaneyeon them.Sheis wearinga longwhite
frock and sits eccentricallyin her maq her sbavenhead tilted towardsthe alar and catchingthe eveninglight that leaksin through the tall, shutteredwindows. .I alwavs usedto watchher in churchbecause shewasdifferentfrol the otherchildren.I knewher storyofcourseandI tried to sit oppositeher sotiat I couldgeta goodview of her.'13 The punkah swishesthe length of the church. The ReverendSingh,in a whitesummercassoc\white surplice and a black-ribbedsilk tippeg billows like a sil as the draught catcheshis vestments;white ag:ainstthe dark mahoganyalar-facingsas he crossesthe chancelto read the King's Messagefrom the lectern.The service,a form ofthanlsgiving for the recoveryfrom a seriousillnessof H.M. The King Emperor,useda monthbeforein WestminsterAbbey, hasat last beendistributedto the Indian dioceses.la After the King's Message, for whichthe con_ gregationrose loyally ro its feer, the ReverendSingh asksthemto remainstandingfor theActsof Thanksgiving. 'Let usgive thankg'heiitones in hiseffectiveUuJr,,fi, the skill and devotionofthe doctors,surgeonsand nurses whotendedour SovereignKing Georgeduring his illness' The congreg"ation responds:,O give thanks unto the Lord for He is graciousand His mercyendurethfor ever,, 'Let us givethanksr, he criesagain,,for the patientand diligent researchof men and wonrento whonr-havebeen revealedthe meansfor healingsicknessanddisease.' And as the congregationbeginsthe antiphon,.O give thanksunto the Lord . . .', a smallindistinct voicestutters out theBengaliwordfor 'SATAN', followedby ,pIG', and the children sitting next to Kamala,who havetaught her the wordsand promptedher to saythem, suddenly crackup with laughter.The RwerendSinghpausesthreareningly,waiting for the miscreantsto be sileng and then cofltinuesthe servicewith a brow of thunder. 2r7
On z6SeptemberryzgKamalafell ill with typhoidfever. The diseaseappearsto havefollowed its normal course,
by a high and continuedfeverovere period characterized ofabout threeweeks,delirium, diarrhoea,convulsionsand othersymptoms.In the fourth weekthe feverabatedleavwith a dry, browntongue ing Kamalaweakandemaciated, and persistentbowel complaints.During the fust part of her illnessshewastreated- treatmentfor typhoidin those days was entird symptomaticand supportive- by Dr Santra,a iunior doctor who dealt mostly with the town's workingin close choleracasesandotherinfectiousdiseases, consultationwith the family physician,Dr Sarbadhicari. After the fourth weekwhen Kamalashowedno signsof recoveryshewasput on to a courseofinjectionsstartingon 3 November.Unfortunately,neither the doctorsnor the ReverendSingh specffiedwhat the injectionscontainedl probablythey wereaimedat correctingthe renaldisorder, nephritis,which developednow as a complicationof the typhoid infection. fu to her diet, the only information comesfrom the ReverendSingh's daughter,Preeti Loa 'While shewassic\ Dr Sarbadhicaritold father to Jana: feed her with raw blood, as that would be the only thing that shecould digestat that time. A manwould be sentto bring a glassof blood from where the goatsare cut for meat. . . the bloodwould dry up and pieceswerecut and fedto her. . . shealsoatea lot ofearth.'ls The combinationdid not appearto do her much good for shegrewsteadilyweaker.But during this latter part of her illness,just aswhenshewassickoncebefore,shemade 'Shenot only couldtalk,' gainsin lenguage. considerable 'but the ReverendSinghnoted, alked with the full sense of the wordsusedby her.'16Shecould recogaizethe two doctorswho looled after her and showeda preferencefor Dr Satbadhicari,especiallyfor his gentlertechniquewith the hypodermic.fu Mrs Singh recalled:'During her illness... shewasgiveninjectionsdaily by the two doctors. Onceshe saidin a low voicein Bengalicolloquial termsto me - "Ma Ma chotabulu fullachbe."(Ma, the litde onehura.) Shesaidsowhenan iniectionwasapplied
by Dr Santra.'r1 The incident was not isolated. 'Sheoncc said to one female attendant - *Palul didi, baile jabat'i.e. Parul, I will easemyself so take me out of the room. So the female attendant took her out ofthe room and she satis fied the call of nature . . . While doing so she did not hesitate to eat up pebbles and stoneslying on the ground.'18 The strain of contradiction between her efforts towards progress and the compulsive reversion to habits acquired in the wild, which characterizedKamala's whole life at the orphanageremained with her until the end. But asher condition deieriorated and she becametoo weak even to move, the past ceasedto exert any influence over the present. Nephritis terminated in uraemia and she fell into a stupor which gradually deepened into coma from which she did not emerge.Kamala died at 4 a.m. on 13 Novembershortly after the Reverend Singh, in the presenceof his wife and daughter, had commended her soul with the appropriate prayer: 'We commit unto Thy loving carethis child whom Thou art calling to Thyself. Send Thy holy angel to lead her gently to those heavenly habitations where the souls of them that sleepin Thee have perpetual peaceand joy.'le She was buried the following day next to Amala under the banyan tree in St John's cemetery. On rz December, a public holiday in British India to celebratethe occasionof the Prince of Wales'visit in 19rr, the District Magistrate held his customary durbar on the naidaninfront of the Collectoratebuildings. At the end of the ceremony, when the assembled native populace were expected to salute the Union Jack and sing God Saae tlu Kingrtherc was an unprecedentedhush. Only a few hands were raised in homage.Then as one or two stalwart loyalists standing besidethe podium beganto sing, tle crowd suddenlyfound its voice; uneasilyat first but soongaining confidence,they drowned the others with a rousing chorus of 'Bandemataram', raising as they sang a vermilion 'Swaraj' flag with the word written on it in Devnagri
characters. Significantly,no onetried to stopthemandthe meetingbrokeup in stunnedsilence. If Kemalahadlived in the shadowof e storm,the signs that it wassoonto breakwcreunmistakable.The resdessnessand discontentthat had spreadacrossIndia in the decadespannedby ha life at theReverendSingh'sorphan' agewereturning now in the voftex of a whirlwind.
ChapterTen
On the eveningof z5 Marctr r93r in a field befiind the station,acrossthe road from the Singhs'orphanege,four Bengalistudentsmet under the coverof darknessto plan their secondattempton thc life of Mr Peddie,the District Magistrateof Midnapore.Their motive waspolitical. As membersof the BengalVolunteerParty, a revolutionary mganizationresponsiblefor a number of assassirntion attemptsonthe guardiansofthe.$ritish Rai during the la* striking at the officeratherthen year,they sawthemselves Peddietheywercmaking But the case ofJames in the man. Dasguptqoneof dle of Bimal the words an exception.In of Midnapore the nephew of Headmaster a four and 'the prime author of all was Peddie School, C,ollegiate let looscin the district . . . the chiefperpetratc oppressions of the diabolicalviolation of the cha.*ity of our mothers andsisters'.lDasguptahadno doubt that'the forfeitureof all Peddie'srights to live waswhat everymanand worn4n of this district did then earnesdydesire'.2He would take pleasurein executingtheir wishes,and this time there would be no misakes. stepof A monthbefore,MrPeddiehadtakenthcunusual callingtogetherhis officialsend all the prominentcitizens ofMidnaporewhowereloyalto the Governmentto discuss how the town and district could best deal with the twin problemsof Gandhi'sNon-ViolenceMovementand the rrcent increasein terroristactivity.The meetingtookplae on rr Februaryat ro a.m.- the time hadbeenmovedforward from r p.m. as originally planned, as a security measure- in the hall of the District BoardOffices.Among
thosepresentrepresentingthe town loyalists,the Revorend Singh,easilydistinguishedby his greatstatureandall black cosnrme,sat in a prominent position. The padre, who had everyother reasonfor beingthere,alsocounted himselfa personalfriend of Mr Peddieand, althoughthe Iattercouldhavehadlittle time for friendshipwith Indians or anyone else in the troubled year he had spent at Midnapore,the two men did have a certain amount in clmmon. At leastit pleasedSinghto think so. JamesPeddie,a Scotfrom Coupar,Fife, wascommonly regardedasa star of the I.C.S. A formersoldierwith an exceptional war record,he hadrisenthroughthe ranksto be madeLieutenant-Colonelat the ageof twenty-sixand was twice mentionedin dispatchesbefore resigninghis commissionn ryrg. In India, where promotion could hardlybesorapid,hehadenjoyeda corresponding success and whena monthbefore,in Januaryr93r, he had been on awardedthe C.I.E.,it wasagreedto be the best-earned the list. He wasa tall rnanof greatphysicalstrengthwith a heavyblackmoustache, a sepulchralvoiceand a greatdeal of charm.He preferredoutdoorwork to officeroutineand spentas muchtime as possibletouringhis district.Like Singh he was also a keen shikari and held a particular afection for the Santals.It waspartly becauseof his interest and sympathyfor the agriculturalclasses,as well as a talentfor workingwith youngpeople,that he hadbeensent to Midnapore.But healsohada reputationfor beingtough mindedand somethingof a disciplinarian, and it wasfor thesequalitiesthat he becamebest known in a district wherethe difficultiesof enforcingtax collectionand maintainingthe public peaceallowedhim little time for the sort of constructiv€work which really interestedhim. In the eyes of the ReverendSingh and Peddie'sI.C.S. Fellows he was 'the embodimentof the ideal District Officer . . . conzumedby a veritablepassionfor justice, [who] could not bear to seethe weak oppressedor the helplessdefrauded'.3Thenationalistssawhim ratherdiffer- 222
223
ently: the militarist thug sanctioningand encouragingthe brutalitiesof his policeforce,the cruel and sadisticdespot who ruled the district with an iron swaggerstick. He was missingtwo fingersfrom his right hand, a legacyof the war:it became themarkofa devil. Addressingthe meetingat the District BoardOfficeshe had briefly outlined the political situationwhich had developedoverthe lastyear,plungingIndia into a stateof turmoil unknown since the mutiny. It had begun in October r9z9 with Macdonald'sLabour Governmentin London and the ViceroS Lord Irwin, inviting the Indian political leadersto takepart in a RoundTable Conference to achieve'the greatestpossiblemeasure of agreement'in planningthe forthcomingIndian ReformBill. Gandhihad demanded full dominionstatusasa basisfor takingpartin any discussionsand when this wirsnot concededhe had launched, withthefull supportofthe Congress Party,a new Civil DisobediencpMovement,which he inauguratedon 6 April r93owith the'renowned marchto Dandibeachon the Bombaycoastin defianceof the unpopularmonopoly of the Salt Law. This time the ideaof Satyograha(Civil Disobedience) really caughthold and beforethe Governmentrealizedthat the situationmight turn serious,revolutionary disturbanceswerebreakingout over the wholeof Indiq with mobsaking controloftowns,clashesoccurring betweenpolice and picketsover commercialboycotting agrarianunrestand in the north-east,particularlyBengat" terroristbomboutrages. The revolutionaries,asMr Peddieexplained,had been cunning enoughto qynchronizetheir campaignwith the Civil Disobedience Movement.On GoodFriday,rz April r93o, after a daring raid on the armoury at Chittagong, they had got awaywith rifles and ammunitionand Sained a large number of young recruits to their cause.Many believedthetime for armedrebellionhadcomeadast.But for the moment the terrorists had made do with the murdersof Sir CharlesTegart,the Commissioner ofPolice
in Calcutta, Lowman and Hodspn in DeacC four months hter Lowuran's succ€ssoras Inspector-General, Mr Geig, and many other attempted assassinations,all interspersed with arrned robberies for revolutionary funds. The police, who had their hands ftfl trying to cope with the S*tyagrahis, and the Governmeng still hoping to perzuade Gandhi to com€ to a conferencein London, appearedto do nothing. There followed a clamp-down with provision for trule by ordinancet - martial law where necessary,dawn arr€sts and the oudawing of certain political associations. Unfortunateb none of these measures seriously affected the terrorists. And when the Government, as a conciliatory gesture towards Gandhi, had withdrewn the Press Ordinance, the nationalist newspap€rsimmediately launched a campaign to drum up public support for the revolutionary movement. The attempt at conciliation hed provoked an angry reaction from the European community in Calcutta; ilnong the most outspoken were some Anglican Missiorr. ariesofthe old schooland a group ofyoung bloods calling tlrcmselves'The Royalists', who demanded'firm rule and no nonsense'. In Midnapore, Mr Peddie suggestedto his grave and attentive listeners, the problem could only be aggravatedby inflammatory talk, even if there was truth in it. He urged rather that all those present, whether or not they were in positions of authority, should use what influence they had to persuade people that the future of the District and oflndia herselfdependedon keepingthe public peace. This meant in particular not taking part in Gandhits non-cooperation movemeng which encouraged boycotting foreign goods, non-peyment oftaxes and general lawlessness: for one thing, it wasted the time and resource{iof the police, for another it provided a suitably confused background from which the terrorists could operate.Garbed in homespun,the Midnapore cell of the Bengal Volunteers were known to heve infiluated the rarrks of the Gaudhian workers. Ttay had to be exposed:
224
225
a task that would be made easier if their friends and relatives did not try to cuceal them. They were the mns of educated middle-class Hindu families who ought to be susceptible to reasoned argument - some of drem might even be present at this meeting. A stir of protest rippled acrossthe hall. It was followed by questions about police brutality and house to house searchesand a few half-hearted objections, but in the end all pledged their support. As an exercise,however, in rrisF ing the spirit of civic responsibiliq Mr Peddie's address was not an unqualified success,perhaps becausein Midrraporeasyet tJreterrorists had not made much impression C,omparingit to the meeting he had aftended at the Bayley Flall after the Murder of the Kennedys in Mozufferpore more than twenty yers ago, the Reverend Singh noticed a critical difference - the senseofshock and outrage at whrt had happened and alarm at what might happen was miss. ing. A little after mid-day the meeting was adiourned and citizens and officials emerged from the gloom of the District Board Offices into the bright sunlight. Mr Peddie, escorted by armed police constables, tumed to walk towards his bungalow. No one noticed the two nsrvoug looking students sanding close in to the side of the building. They carried guns concealedin their dhothbut heving received no warning that the time of the meeting had becn changed, had anived fractionally too late to use them and be certain of their arget. Rather than risk failure and arrest they had decided to wait for a better opportunity. It presenteditself finally on 7 April r93r. As part of his policy to win over the student community by patronizing and encouraging various cultural events, Mr Peddie had organized an exhibition oflocal arts and crafts to be held at the Midnapore Collegiate School. The exhibirion, as it happened, had also been chosen by the studenfs at their clandestine meeting in the field behind rhe station as a zuiable venue for his assassination. Peddie had beeo
expectedto openthe exhibitionon r April, but wascalled away at the last moment to deal with a disturbancein anotherpart of the disuict. The chancewaslost; nor wasit certain when another would materialize.The political situationhad deterioratedsharplyin the month following the signingof the lrwin-Gandhi pact,andthe life of every District Officerin Bengalhad becomeasfreneticasit was unpredictable.The pact,which took the form of an agreement betweentwo sovereignpartiesand appeatedto most loyalistsas a deephumiliation for the Government,also entailed the releaseof political prisoners.More trouble seemedinevitable. Sir Robert Reid, a former District Magistrateof Midnapore,now Chief Secretaryof Bengal, and incidentallyamongthe most illusrious of Kamala's visitors,hadreceiveda letter fromJamesPeddie,whomhe regardedari one of the finest officers ever recruited to Bengal,sayingthat he felt ashamed,after this, to meetthe Indian Officialswho hadstoodby him loyallyin his efforts to repressseditionin the Midnaporedistrict. Reid himself hadmadea singlecommentin his diary: 'The wholeshow seemsto be slipping.'{ Bimal Dasgrptaalongwith JatiiibanGhoshhadwon by drawing lots the honourof making the final attempt on Peddie'slife. On the morningof 7 April theyheardthat he hadreturnedunexpectedlyfrom the mofussil.For the rest of that day- the lastof the exhibition- Bimal pesteredhis uncle, Hiralal Dasgupa, who was Headmasterof the C,ollegiate School,for newsof whetherPeddiewould visit the schoolbeforethe exhibitionclosed.Luckily for Hiralal Bsbuhe did not know,but at aboutsix o'clockword came that the D.M. wason his way to the school.The assistant headmaster immediatelysentMusha,the gatekeeper, and Bhaju, the schoolbearer,to fetch hurricanelanternsto light up the exhibition. ln his father's houseBimal Dasgupa washedquickly and put on cleanclothes.He wasioinedthereby Jatiiiban and the two boysprayedtogetherat 4 shrineto the God- zz6
227
dessKdi beforea,ruringthemselvesand setting o{, at I deliberatelyleisurelyprce soasnot to arousesuspicion,in the directionofthe school.Eachcarrieda revolverin the front knot of his d,hotiand a glassampuleof poassium cyanidein the hollow of his cheek.They hadsaidgood-bye before leaving the house; neither of them erpected to return from their mission. Mr Peddie,who waswell known for an eccentrichabit of going everywhereon foot, choseto walk from the bungalow to the school. He was accompaniedby the DeputyS.P.,Mr Carret,and the AssisantD.M., Aswini Kumar Maitra. His personalbodyguardfor oncewasnot with him. They arrived at the school,wherea numberof masters,studentsand officialswerewaiting for them, and proceededat once with inspectingthe exhibition. The light from the hurricanelampswaspoor and Mr Peddie hadto benddownto seethe detailof the exhibits.He was leaningoverto examinea table fan, operatedby a ffeadle, whenBimal andJati, movingunnoticedthroughthe crowd ofpeople,enteredthesmallroomandcameup closebehind him. Neither of them said a word. They withdrew their weaponsand fired at point-blank rangethree shotsinto Mr Peddie'sbackand,ashe wasspunround by the impact of the bullets,two moreinto his side. 'We exhaustedall our bullets on Mr Peddier'Biuul would recall later with somesatisfaction.'Whilemaking ourselvesreadyfor swallowingthe ampulesof potassium cyanide,we took our last wishful glanceat the world. But we weresurprisedto seenot a singlemanin the room. It wasfully deserted.All heroicattendantsof Mr Peddiehad madegoodtheir escapefor fearoflife. Therewasno oneto obstructour way.'5In the confusionand darkness, for the room was not only badly lit but firll of smokefrom the blackpowderthey had usedto prime their home-made cartridges,the two studentsmanagedto escape.Subodh ChandraBose,an assistantteacher,who witnessedthe attack, confirmed that 'those who were presentin the
rfirm f€d away out of panic. They ume almost fiften or twenty in number. Hiralal Babu, Narayan Babu and other teachers were looking atrout for Mr Peddie, who in the meanwhile had crossed the sill of tlre eastern door of the room and entered the adioining one. Mr Peddie was thcn found standing, supporting himself ag"ainstthe western wall. He was a rnan of long stature and equally stout and strong. Narayen Babu inquired anxiously, "Are you hurt, Sir I ", to which he could only reply, "Yes."'6 While a phaeton was being called to carry Peddie to hospital, Bimal and Jati commandeered a birycle from a passing cyclist and set off on a ten- or twelve-mile ride to Salboni station. Later that night they caught the Up pass€ng€rto Purulia and in the early morning the Down uain to C.alcutta and safety. The police in the meantime took statements from all those who had been present at the exhibition, while Mr Peddie, surrounded by guards, lay in an upper room of the Midnapore hospitd, waiting for the arrival of a British doctor from Calcuta. Major Murray, First Surgeonof the PresidenryGeneral Hospital, accompaniedby an assistantand a nurse,reached . Midnapore by special train at 2-3o a.m. They operated at onpe and removed a bullet from Peddie's abdomen. His condition deteriorated,but by morning he had rallied sufficiently to be able to speak to som€ of his colleaguesand friends. Peddie wes unmarried. He asked to see the Rsverend Singh, who had come to the hospital as soon es he had heard news ofthe shooting and had been standing by ell night in caseof need. Visitors were strictly vetted and tlreir visits kept brief, but the padre was allowed to spend most of the day with the dying man. At ro a.m. Dr Murray operated ag'ain,but rnrithno more successand as Peddie's life began to fade, the Reverend Singh administered the rites of Exueme Unction and gave him his last communion. The padre was with him when he died at 5.ro that afternoon. He faithfirlly recorded his friend's last words, a garbled rn€s&rgeto be relayed to his nrotier in Coupar, zz8
229
.Fife and then the suitably emorive cry of ' Home ! Home !', which, though he would tell the story often enough,Singh found more deeply affecting than he could adequately express;for in JamesPeddie'sdeath he had not only seen the certain end of British rule in India but a distorted reflection of his own fate, for Peddie was the man he would have been. The funeral took place next day on rhe morning of 9 April at StJohn's Cemetery. The coffin was carried on the back of a motor lorry from the Gvil Hospital, precededby a body of armedpoliceand followed by a hostof I.C.S. and other dignitaries at the head of a large crowd. The cortdge, discreetly by-passingthe school building, where Peddie had been shot and police constablesnow stood guard with fixed bayonets,evenfually reached St John's. The padre was waiting at the head of a platoon of boy scouts assembledin silencein the church compound. A grave had been dug, on the Reverend Singh's instructions, in a position of unusual prominence direcdy in front of the church, and there Peddie was duly buried with full military honours. The patlre, at the height of his dignity, made a short funeral oration and, when all the obsequieswere done, the commissionersof Midnapore Municipality read 'deep abhorrence an emotional statement expressing their ofand indignation at the dastardly outrage'.7 It was a sentiment that would find wide support all over India, but in Midnapore itself the public faceof shameand sorrow concealed a certain satisfaction at Peddie's death that was not confined to the extremistsl and, as the efforts of the police to trace the killers were redoubled, resentment and bitterness at their methods of search,arrest and questioning (accompanied, as rumour had it, by torrure) crept into many a Hindu household. As a result the European community and the loyalists came under stress and there returned to Midnapore something of that siege rnentality, born of the Mutiny, rryhichthe British had never really shakenoffin the north of India after seventyyears of
directrule. Fear,solidarity,loveof iusticeandthe courage ofprotocol still reinforcedeachotherunder the colonial npresumption of Duty. In Midnaporeit wasIndians loyal to the Government who sufferedmost,but asthey stoodin doughtyaloofness from their own countrymen,sowerethey rewarded.None wasbetter praisedfor the help and advicehe gaveto the administratorsandthe braveexamplehe setto othersthan the ReverendSingh.He preachedloyalistsermonsthat put steelin men'shearts,he lent his servicesasan interpreter and a go-between,and when one morningPeddie'sgrave he stoodguardthe following night wasfound desecrated, with his own servantsuntil policereinforcements couldbe spared.It washis finesthour, and it did not gounnoticed. At the end of the yearthe new Collector,Mr Burge,made him an HonoraryMagistrate- an unpaidbut honourable sinecure,which had beencovetedby most Indians as a prestigiousdistinction until the CongressParty had de. claredthe HonoraryMagistracyto be on its blacklist. The ReverendSingh, however,was nothing dauntedby the idea of winning the disapprovalof the nationalists.He gown from his teaching lookedout an old schoolmaster's daysand woreit to court with pridg takinghis new duties seriously.It wasjust aswell that he did, for in December r93r he receiveda letter frorn FatherBalcombeinforming him that he wasshordyto be retired from the S.P.G.asa missionary. The reasonsgivenwerehis age- he wasfifty-eight- his indifferenthealthandthe recentcutsin the S.P.G.grants hadbeenworriedfor sometime from home.But Balcombe about the Midnaporedistrict, wherereports of converts stolenby the Romansand the Baptists,of Christianslapsing into Hinduism, suggestedin these days of antimissionaryfeeling (recently stirred up by Gandhi) that preciousground had beenlost for ever. Aside from his personalantipathytowardsSingh he had long wantedto Eeea youngerand keenermantake overand stopt}te rot. 230
On the sameprinciplehe hadengineeredthe rr ofthe ReverendRussellPayne,whohadbeenvicarat agpurfor the pastfourteenyearsand, asthe fuchdea 'allowedthingsto go wrotein a letter to his successor, ".r sleepa bit'. Like Godfrey Walters, his predecessorat Kharagpur,he joined the list of casualtiesto the missionary ideal,menwho had beenleft to grow old and inept at their iobs in a country where the Europeanwas never encouraged to outstayhis usefulness. As an Indian, the ReverendSingh fared somewhat betterthan his colleague; not only did he haveredressto hiS grievanceagainstFather Balcombeand to a whole chronicleofreal or imaginedpersecutions (for everything from his politicalviewsto his harbouringthe wolf children at the orphanage): but beinglovedand respected by his parishionersand many non-Christiansin the district, he could not be seento be too shabbilytreated.A full-scale row developednonetheless. Although relievedof his mis,sionaryduties,Singhwasto be kept on asparishpriestof St John's, Midnapore, so long as his health and work remainedsatisfactory,on a monthlyallowanceof 35rupees and an S.P.G. pensionfor the sameamount- in all 7o rupeesor roughly{3 sterling.The arrangement wasto take effect from July 1932.Wisely perhapsFather Balcombe left it to the ReverendA. C. B. Molony, who wastaking over Singh's district from Kharagpur, to explain the detailsto him. Molony reportedbackto BishopWestcott: - he is very upsetabouttle I sawPadreSinghyesterday smallness of hispension, soI expectyouwill begettingVolume I of his Life andWorks.He wasbusyon it yesterdaS andon the wholeit is not uninteresting, But seriouslyI feel tlnt it
23r
would havebeenwiser to havegiven him a better pension. .. if it cameout that his pensionwasonly 35 rupees,there would be a lot of feeling in Midnaporeand Kharagpur,where Singh is popular.I would be lookedupon asresponsiblefor the meen ways of the church. I cannot help feeling that Balcombehas tried to makcuseof me over ttre whole Singh affair.8
ith Singh appealing to the Bishop for more money and Balcombe protesting that the S.P.G. grant, growing smallereachyear, would soonbe entirely swallowedup by pensions and that there would be nothing left for 'the active work', the row was extended by the posting of a third priest to Geonkhali, from where he was to help Molony and Singh with the Midnapore parish. The ReverendLionel Hewitq an Eurasianexcommunicateof the Catholic Church, had joined the Anglicans some years before and after marrying rather too soon (much to his Bishop's disappointment) had proved himself a keen, if unlucky, missionary. He had been in trouble with the' police. Caught hanging around outside a brothel wearing Indian dress, he had been arrested because,it was said, he bore a strong resemblance to a certain ex-convict wanted in connection with the Elder Murder Case. The Bishop had promptly cometo his defence,but accordingto Hewitt, who was given to self-dramatizing,the police had continued to shadow him for years. He was a simple character, well-meaning, not very worldly-wise, touchy and sometimesgiven to stints ofmild paranoia- a common enough syndrome among Anglo-Indians, but in his case probably as much a consequenceofchronic ill-health and recurring bouts of malarial fever as racial insecurity. He fell out almost immediately with Father Balcombe and for a long time was unable to make friends with the Reverend Singh becauseof the latter's resentment towards him; but in A. C. B. Molony, a big untidy Irishman brought up in the lowlands of Scotland, a confirmed bachelor, able Scoutmaster and eccentric rugger player, he found his hero. The two of them, Hewitt believed, would convert the entire district, and he wrote endlessnotesand lettersto Molony bursting with enthusiasmand full of breathless suggestionsfor 'thorough missionaryvisits' to the Santal villagesarmed with the cross,a communion set and some blazing red vestments- tjust enough to impress them'. But somedmeshe went too far: 'I am just suggestingthe
232
233
following for consideration,' he wmte. 'Is it possible to make the Reverend Singh hand over his orphanage to us . . . in a year or so ? I do not know how we can secureintensive instruction without soinesort of institution like that.'e It was an unintended compliment, no doubt, to Singh's work, but Molony, who felt sympathetic towards the padre and knew how much the orphanagemeant to him, did not allow the suggestion to go any further. It was Molony's businessnow, after Balcombe had finally given up interfering in the Midnapore affair, to keepthe peace.He worked hard to reconcile Hewitt and Singh. At his suggestion the three of them made several iourneys into the jungle during the cold weather of rg32 so that the older man could show them round the district. Singh insisted on travelling only by bullock cart, which Hewitt suspectedwas simply to bring home to them the vast size of his former territory, but both he and Molony were impressedby the padre's popularity and high-standing among the Santals. And Singh himself, although he took less and less interest in missionaryactivities,wasflattered by his companions'reliance on his knowledge and experience, In June 1933 he published an article In the Calcutta DiocesanRecord, a reminiscence of his first missionary voyagesinto the iungle as a young man in the years before the CneatWar; undertaken in a spirit of humility, inspired by the maiestic beauty of the sal forests, they seemedto him now in retrospect to have been blessedby qualities of purity and innocence, even danger, which appeared sadly lacking in today's exchanges between missionary and heathen. Not that he was either able or anxious to take up the saff again himsel{ but now that the storm of Balcombe'sonslaughton the district had abatedand Molony and Hewitt were getting on with their jobs, leaving him more or less to his own devices, he sometimes enjoyed reliving the memories of his own pioneer work in the Lord's Vineyard. It was a way, too, of escapingthe polirical realities of life in Midnapore. Since the death of Jarna
Peddieand the subsequentarrestof his murderer,Bimail Dasgupta,on the stepsof the Writers' Building in Calcutta - he was caughtin an attempt on the life of Mr Villiers, the Presidentof the EuropeanAssociation- both to the post of District Magistratein Midhis successors naporehad sufferedthe same fate at the hands of the 'Midnapore terrorists.Peddie,Douglasand Burge,the Martyrs' as they were known in the loyalist press,lay togetherin St John'scemetery:no onedaredto guesshow long it would be beforethere was a fourth gravewhicfi neededguardingby night againstdesecration.For more than a year now Midnaporehad beenliving under whet amountedto martiallaw. There werecurfews,a systemof coloured identity cards restricting the movementsof individual citizensanda companyof soldierspermanently stationednearthe policelines. For someit had becomea by the police,for othersthe time of continualharassment merely but it wasno longer were inconvenient, restrictions safefor Europeansor prominent loyaliststo walk alone through the bazaars,wherean atmosphereof resentmenq suspicionand fear hung over the hot rlarrolv streetslike strataofputrid air. As anHonoraryMagistratetheReverendSinghofficially hadnothingto do with politicsor the administrationof the district; he dealt judicially only with infringementsof a minorkind; yet duringthe troubledyearsin Bengalfrom r93o to 1936therewassomedangerin havingany conandwhenthe padrereasnectionat all with Government, suredhis wife that not eventhe terroristswould think of harminga priest,he did not alwayssoundconvincedby his however,the Singhs ownargument.Out at the orphanage, At enioyedpeaceand relativesecurity. night as manyas fifteenguarddogswereallowedto roamthe compoundand thatit wasbestto stay it wasa jokeamongthelocaldacoits PadreSahibwaszuch Homet the because awayfrom'The They werethe worse. his were even fierce man and dogs a fiercer no doubt for not getting enoughto eat, for the 44
shortageof moneyin the Singh householdwasbecoming desperate. The padreand his wife eventalkednow of closing downthe orphanage,but neitherofthem finally could faceup to the prospect- particularlyMrs Singh,who in the wordsofher husband,was,doggedlydesiringthat she could not part with the children,whomshehadlovedand rearedfrom their veryinfancyandfor whomshehadspent all herownmoney'.loThey rryere forcedto borrowinsteada zubstantialsum to pay off their mostpressingdebts,put!"q up the orphanagebuildingsassuf,eryand doingso on their own responsibilityastherewasno help forthcoming from the Church, despiteintermittent pleadingon theii behalf by the ReverendMolony and Bishop pakenhamWalsh. As standardsat the orphanagedeclined,affectinghis own living as much as that of the orphans,Singh grew increasinglyresentful.He becamemoroseand irritable, often losing his temper both with his family and the orphans,imposingfastson himselfand otherswithout apparentreason,constantlynaggingat his wife and generally helpingto makelife in 'The Home,a misery.Hisuionictendencies foundunfortunateexpression in Lis work. At Kharagpur,whereoncehis sermonswerewell received by the Europeanand Anglo-Indian congregationof All Saints,his preachingwasnow regardedassomethingof I 'Singhis terrible,'the Reverend Molonycomplained ioke. to the fuchdeacon.'He eitheryellsor whispersand I will soonhaveno congregationleft if I havehim everytime I amout on line.'11In Midnaporehisownparishioners were Iessdiscerning,but it had not escaped noticethat their priest wasunder considerable stress.Many felt $ympathy for him and friendsofferedto help,but donationsfor the orphanagewerefew and far between.In everyway these werehardtimesandtheChurch'spopularappeal'to stand behindChrist to the last rupee'carriedlittle conviction with thosewhowerehungry. 235
ShortlyafterKamala'sdeathBishopHerbertPakenhanr" Walshhad begunto urge the ReverendSingh to prepare his diary accountof the wolf children'slivesat the orphanagefor publication.He persuadedhim that it washis duty not only to science- for he hadalreadygivenhis word to a numberof scientistsall over the world that a full account wouldbe madeavailable- but alsoto his family andto tha orphanage.The Bishop beliwed that there was a fait chanceof makingmoneyout of the wolf children,andnow that the unfortunategirls wereboth deadhe sawno reason why thepadreandhis wife shouldnot receivesomereward he felt for the charitytheyhadshownthem.Partly because responsible,after unintentionallyleakingSingh'sstory to in 1926,for the unwantedpublicity that the newspapers without hadbeenforceduponthepadreandhis orphanage doing either much good,and pardy becausehe himself had alwaysbeenfascinatedby the wolf children,Bishop Walsh had taken a continuing closeinterest in the fortunesof 'The Home' and its inmates.Although he could or try to interfere not offer Singhdirectfinancialassistance in Bishop Westcott'sdiocesanaffairs,he hopedto make amendsfor any disservicehe might havedonehim in the pastby ensuringpublicationofthe wolfchildrendiary.The ReverendSingh,however,took his time aboutcompleting whathe referredto as'the secondpart'ofthe diary.It seemsto havecomprisedmainly a naive and repetitive inter' philosophicalessay,a sort of religious-cum-scientific on the their behaviour, pretationofthe wolfchildren and the reading in but avid, strengthof someindiscriminate, of No doubthe alsorewrotea few passages socialsciences. which his originaljournalin the lightofthese speculations, would be almostentireb cut from the final version,yet at ttretime clearlymeanta greatdealto the padre. In April rg33he wroteto Dr Arnold Gesell,the famous child psychologistof Yale University, who had corre' spondedearlierwith him, that'the writing of the Diary is nearingcompletion.I am delightedto haveanived at a
46
237
greatTruth in SocialBiology: with regardto "Heredity andEnvironment"'.12 He alsoaskedhis adviceon getting the diary published,but if Singh wasby now enamoured of the idea of being welcomedto the confraternity of sciencewith his ErperhnentunCruchin rearingwild children,he seemed in no hurry to presenthis paper.Indeed, it wasto be almostfive yearsbeforethe work, which can only have taken a matter of months to produce,finally emergedin manuscriptform. Apart from the difficulties and distractionsof living in Midnapore during the rurbulent yearsof r93o to 1934and the complicationsof his own life, the chief excuse,accordingto a recapitulatory letter he wrote to Bishop Pakenham-Walsh, waslaziness andblindness to duty. 'You . . . goadedmeon to finishthe secondpart (of the diary) as soonas possible,but unfortunatelyI wasslow to seerhe Divine Will in it and slept overyourrepeated requests like a slothfulman. . .'r3 His letter to Dr Gesellir t933,however,suggests that he had at lastseenthe light and wasgrowingkeenon the project, but soonafterwardsan incident occurredwhich wirsto delaythe completionof the diary by anothertwo years.OneofSingh'sfirst correspondents afterthestoryof the wolf childrenreachedthe Westin 19z6,Dr Paul C. Squires,a ProfessorofJurisprudenceat CaliforniaUniversity, now wroteto him askingto seethe diary and offering to takecareof its publication.Singhduly senthim rhefirst and most imporant part of the work and waitedfor his reaction.Dr Squires,who had publisheda short note on Kamalaand Amalain the AmericanJournalof Pslchology in 1927,wasnot particularly impressedby Singh'sdiary and madeno attemptto disguisethe fact. The padie felt hurt andinsultedby Squires'sbluntly expressed scepticism and demandsfor authentication.He wasfurther outraged to discoverthat Squireshad alsowritten,withouttelling him, to theDistrictJudgeofMidnapore,Mr H. G. Waight, asking for an investigationinto the truth of the wolf children story. This Singh regardedas tantamountto
beingcalleda liar andhe immediatelywroteto Dr Squires cancelling his publication rights over the diary and demandingthe typescriptback.It wasnot returned.The padre,full ofrighteousdisgust,workedhimselfintoa state overthe wholeaffairand,afterthreateningdramaticallyto burn all his records,shelvedthe projectindefinitely. Despite the ReverendSingh's accusationsof almost that he criminal intent on Squires'spart and suggestions 'was'not a gentleman'it hasneverbeenclearexactlywhat passedbetweentttem: the correspondence exchanged by the two men unfortunatelyhasnot survived.Dr Robert Zingg, who would later take over the role of Singh's literary agent,had somecornmunicationwith Dr Squires, to him to be'pretty soreaboutlosingpubliwhoappeared cationrightsof the diary,and wroteme whenI first got it, mefrom goingon with it'.14Whichsuggests to discourage Singh'sbeliefthat Squireswantedto exploithim maynot havebeenall that far-fetched.But from Squires'lettersto Dr Zingg,which seemedto vergeat times on the manic, it is not difficult to seehowa misunderstanding might have arisenwith a nun astouchy and vulnerableasthe padre. 'Singh was furious with me,' Squireswrote by way of explanation,'for having discoveredwhat appearbeyond all doubt to be hopelessinternal contradictionsin his diaty ... I am rathersurprisedyou havefallen for this sruff. Singhso disgustedme that I would havenothing to do with helpinghim getout his diary for publication:it is ignorantpieceof drivelby areligiousfanatic.'rs a hopelessly But he endsthe letter on what might be construedas a conciliatorynote: 'As regardsour good friend Singh's diary,that, I muchfear,will haveto beruthlesslydissected by me later on. Too bad you did not conferthrough the mail with me beforeyou steppedinto it. Nor am I saying that.'16His chiefobjectionto thatSinghisaliar,understand the diaryappearsto havebeenthat its authorwasa priest muddledthinking, andnot a scientist.The contradictions, brokenEnglishandpoor spellingwereimmediately appar- 298
239
ent to anyonereadingthe diary, and a needfor cautionin assessing the scientificvalueof sucha documentwasnot in dispute;but therecanbe little doubtthat Dr Squireshad over-reacted.His attitude, however,was by no means unique, though othersamongAmericanacademics were able to view the situation more calmly. W. N. Kellogg, a psychologistat IndianaUniversity,whohadalsotakenan interestin the wolf childrenfrom an earlystage,proclaiming them 'unquestionablythe most striking exampleof wild childrenin our time',17wroie toDr Zngg:.I bilieve that the chief difficulry is that Singhis nor only alayman anda missionary,but a manwho is not capableof expressing himself in English with accuracyand precision.No doubt his practicalwork haskept him so busythat he has hadlittle chanceto perfecthimselfasa manof letters.It is clearthat he wites so efrrsivelyand emotionallythat the facts behind his descriptionsare confusedor foggedin a greatdealof verbiagewhichoftenmeansnothing.'l8The criticism wasvalid and true yet it scarcelytouchedon the wider,morecomplexdifficultiesof culturalmisunderstanding and failure of communication,which had already arisenon both sidesofthe oceanand wouldnow accompanythe storyof the wolf childrento its close. One useful outcome of the altercationbetweenthe ReverendSingh and Dr Paul Squireswasthe requestfor Harry Waight, the District and Sessions Judge of Midnapore,to look into the facts of the case.Though it is unlikely that his investigationswereparticularlyrigorouscertainly not by scientificstandards- th"y were at least straightforwardand honest.And at the end he wasableto provide the padre with the following affidavit, dated 4 October1934and stampedwith the sealof the Judge,s Court. The Reverend J. A. L. Singhhasplacedbeforeme all the .Wolf childdocuments andevidence relatingto the so-called ren'of Midnapore, whichI havestudiedcarefully. I knowMr Singhpersonally andI amconvinced thatevery
word that he haswritten regardingtle cbildren is true, to his knowledge.I havealso spokento severalpeople who saw the elder of the two girls on several occasionsat Mr Singh's o:phanageand they haveconfirmedMr Singh'saccountsof the manner (for exarnple) in which the children walked and behaved. There is not the least doubt in my mind that Mr Singh's truthfrrtnessis absolutelyto be relied on.le Since'Mr Waight had not himself seen Kamala and Am"lq the affidavit could in no sense be regarded as evidence for or against 'wolf children', but it did help to remove possible doubts about the Reverend Singh's honesty and suspicions that the story might have been a hoax. The padre, however, did not appreciate the sugges tion that he was even capable of telling a lie; whether through pride or becausehe had had his feelings hurt by Dr Squiresor becausehe really did havesomethingto hide, when it came to finding evidence to $upport his statement that Kamala and Amala had been rescued from wolves evidencethat from now on scientists would try to elicit from him with the greatest possible tact - the Reverend Singh did not appear eager to cooperate. His word, he beliwed, should have been good enough. fu long ago as tgzT a few months after the appearancein the Statesmon of Calcutta of the fwo conflicting reports on how the children were found in the jungle, Bishop PakenhamWalsh had zuggestedto the padre that in order to clear up that and any future controversy he should obtain and publish statements from Richards and Rose, his two Anglo-Indian hunting companions, who had been with him on the machanand witnessed the capfure. At the time the orphanage \ras under daily siege from Kamala's visitors and the padre, who was anxious to avoid further publicity - 'I wanted tJre news to die out as soon as possible. To contradict, or correct, meant to me reviving tlre publication freshly, and I hated that from the very inmost core of my heart'z0- refused to haveanything rnore
240
24r
to do with the Statesrnanorsroriesbeing published in the pressabout the wolf children. He did, however, makesome attempr to get in touch with Richards and Rose,but both men and their families had long since moved away from Kharagpur and could not easily be traced. There the Reverend Singh was quite happy to let the matter reCt" The transient nature of employment on the Indian Railways, particularly among the .lower European zubordinates' and Eurasian community, meant th;t they were constantly on the move from one dingy railway rown to another, Ieaving scarce evidence of their passing. Some sevenyears later Mr Waight, the District Judge, had tried to find them but with little more success. In Singhrs words: 'Mr Waight talked with the authorities he knew on the phone, and could get Richards but not Rose, and afterwards inquired from others at Kharagpur and Mid_ napore (and in the interior) ro satisfy himself and was fully satisfied.'2lPresumablyif he had wished to, or thoughr it necessary,or been asked to do so by someonemore polite than Dr Squiies, the Reverend Singh himself couldhave obtained without much difficulty statementsfrom a nurr of other people (from Chunarem and Bhagobhat !_e1 Khatua to Dibakar Bhanj Deo, the Maharajah's hunting officer), who were also present at the capture of the wolf children. But this he did not do, and it would be sevsal years yet before any ofthe scientists interested in the wolf children would get round to asking him for the smtemeRt ofa supporting witness, by which time the Reverend Singh would be past caring whether or not they had their.proof" of what he knew to be true. In the meantime the diary (a carbon copy of the first part, the secondwas.rs yet unwritten) gathered dust on the shelvesofthe office ofthe orphanageand despiterepeatd entreaties from Bishop Pakenham-Walsh the padre rc* fused to complete it, still childishly sulking over the ffeatment he had received at the hands of Dr Squires. In December of ry34 the Bishop's term of ,.rid"n"" "*
principal of Bishop'sCollegein Calcuttacameto an end and he set off for England on an efiended furlough to gather support for the project to which he was now to devotethe rest of his life. At an agewhenmost men look forwardto retirementhe wasproposingto takethe vow of, povertyand setupan ashram,a smallreligiouscommunity, for missionaryand 'uplift' work in cooperationwith the local SyrianOrthodoxChurchin a poor district of Coimbatorein southernIndia. Sincehe wasobligedto spend sometime in London he hadhopedto takeSingh'srnanuscript with him to showto publishers,but whenthe time camefor him to leaveIndia the diary wasnot finishedlnor wasit readyseveralmonthslater whenthe Bishop,armed with gifts of money,devotionalbooks,a fifteenth-century communionpaten,a SyrianNew Testamentandpaperson Divine Healing,setoffagainto settlefor goodin his chosen corner of the sub-continent.Before leaving he wrote to Singhrequestingthat he sendthe diary, assoonasit was complete,to his brotherin England.Shamedinto action, Singhdid ashe wasaskedandthe manuscriptwith photographs finally reachedthe desk of Mr Goffin of the OxfordUniversityPressby theendof 1935. As a friend of BishopWalsh,Mr Goffinhatl promisedto do his bestto find a publisherfor the diary; but his efforts werenot rewardedwith success. The manuscriptwasproIix, not very well arrangedand written in unattractive Dnglish;the photographs,mosdyaken by Singh himself, wereof poor quality, and sinceKamalaobjectedto being photographedin the early (and more interesting)yearsshewouldturn her headawayratherthanfacethe camerathere werescarcelyany front viewsor close-ups.British 'The generaljudgement', publisherswerenot impressed. Mr Goffin reportedbackto BishopWalsh,'is that the storyfallsbetweentwo Stools,it iust missesboth the scientific andthe morepopularmarkets.For the forher thereis not suftcient technicaldetail- bodily features,exacttests andresuls . . . For thepopularthereis insufficientstory.'n 242
243
It seemedto the Bishopthat they had entirely missedthe point; ashe sawit, the centralinferestof the diary lay in the psychological,moral and spiritual condition and developmentof the childrenand the story,astold, seemed to him most illuminating on these grounds. But Mr Goffin's letter left no room for argumentand the manuscriptwith photographs wasrecalledto India. Reverend Singh reacted predictablyto therejection -The of his work He wasmortified. Declaringonceagainthat he wishedro havenothing more to do with the diarv he 1!{icated all responsibility regarding publication to lishop Watrshand choseto forget to how many of his friends and acquainrances in Midnapore he had talked proudlyof his 'forthcomingbool'. As far ashe wasconcernedthe wolfchildrenepisodewasclosed.BishopWalsh, o-1the other hand, whosebelief in the importanceof the diary remainedas strong as ever, would not give up so easily.Over the next two years,fully occupiedas he was with the ashrarn,building housesand a chapel,sinking bore wells and constructinga windmill to pump water, Iearning Tamil and organizingthe work of the Christa SishyaSangha(Fellowshipof the Disciplesof Christ), he found time to write a shorter*ot" popul", versionof the wolf children's story basedon the ReverendSingh's diary. tt w1sqcepted by the weeklylllu*rated Tima of India andpublishedasa seriesofthree articleswith the bestof, the photographsin Novemberand Decemberof rg37. Hopingto capitalizeon this modesrsuccess theBishopsJnt offthe articlesto Mr Goffin in Englandsuggesting rharhis own work might stand a better chancethan Singh's of finding a publisher.Therehe,too, wasto be disappointed; but by coincidencethe samemail that deliveredGoffin's rejectionslip also brought a letter from the U.S.A.' addressed to Singhin Midnaporeand forwardedon by him. It wasfrom Dr RobertZingg,ananthropologistatthl UniversityofDenver,andexpressed in thepolitestpossible
terms a desire to help the Reverend Singh find a publisher, if he so wished, for anlthing he might have written about the wolf children. The letter was full of flattering and somewhatinflated statementsthat must have sounded sweet to the ears of the padre and, indeed, to Bishop Pakenham-Walsh.'It has been your privilege,'Dr Zingg wrote, 'to be the guardian and crrstodianof one of the rarest and most valuable beings - of crucial importance in understanding how much human beings are human because of their experience, education, and contact in the first few years of life . . . I would find it a pleasure personally and a contribution to science, if you found it convenient to answer.'23This was exactly what the two Churchmen of Christ, laymen of science, had always believed and neither of them doubted that in Dr Zing{s letter 'the finger of God' was showing them the way. Bishop Walsh answered by return of post (three or four days later in the valley of Thadagam) informing Zinggthat the diary would be sent on to him in Colorado as soon asi possible and that the responsibility for finding a publisher was now entirely his. All profits, he added,were to be sent to the ReverendSingh in Midnapore. The padre,rvho had iust received zz6 rupees for the Bishop's articles in the Tines of India, beganonce more to take heart: the future of the orphanageno longer seemedquite so bleak.
ChapterEleven
A son of the West, born and raised in the shadow of the Rocky mounrains, Robert M. Zingg was thirty-eight years old in 1938, when he first wrote to the ReverCnd Singh about the wolf children. He had completedhis p,h.D. in anthropology some five years before at the University of Chicago,and sincethen had producedtwo academicworks on the Indians of Mexico, both of which had been well enoughreceived.Although he sometimeshad difficultv in elpressinghimself clearly in English and enjoyed r.put"" being slightly unconventionalin hijappro".h to lign-fol life bolh on and offthe campus,he was considired nonethelessa useful addition to rhe Department of Anthropology at the University of Denver. Particularh so since his aunt, Mrs Annie Pfeiffer, a wealthy and philanthropic New York widow, had donated $5o,ooo to the University on_hernephew'sacceptanceof his first academicpost. Soon after completing his book on the Huichols of Mexico, described as 'a study of primitive culture in relative isolation', Dr ZngghaAturned his attention to the more obscure and for an anthropologist not altogether respectable subject of Feral Man, which he believed afforded instances of complete absence of culture in absolute isolation. 'I have been attracted to the study of Feral or "Wild'Manr'he wrote to a colleaguein January 1938, 'as [a] subject most significant in revealing ro us, how much that [which] makes us human derives from human associationin childhood rather than to race, or even brain and nervousstructure.tl On a sabbaticalin Germany the year before, while visiting his wife Christina's relations,
he had collecteddataon a numberofcasesofEuropean wild or isolatedchildren from earlier centurieslbut the availableinformationwith one or two notable (the Wild Boy of Aveyronand CasparHauser)wasthin and patchy, particularly in those caseswhere children wereiaid to havebeenraisedby wild animals.However,in children Europehistoricalandmythologicalanimal-reared (a somewhattendentiousdistinction) mostly date from timeswhenmenand wild animalslived in closerconiunction to eachother,andwhenscientificreporting- asin the caseof the fourteenth-centuryHessianwolf boy and the Lithuanian bear boys - was hardly seventeenth-century developed.In makingsomeallowancesfor the European in essential os.., b, Zingg found that they corresponded details with the more recent stories of wolf and bear children collectedby Colonel Sleeunn during the nine' teenth century in the iunglesof India, wherefavourable feral conditions still existed. Although charmed and absorbedby the material,which asfar ashe knewhad not beenpreviouslycollated,Dt Zingghadnoseriousintention of puiting it togetherin bookor articleform, until he happenedto readin a backnumberof theiournalof American Pslchologltaboutthe wolf childrenof Midnapore.Having written to the ReverendSingh,doubtful evenof receiving a reply,hesuddenlyfoundhimselfproprietorofall publication rights of a documentwhich couldnot fail, providedit wasgenuine,to havesomecontemporaryscientificinterest. As yet Dr Zingg had only seenBishop PakenhamWalsh'sarticlesbasedon the ReverendSingh'sdiary and publishedwith someof his photographsin the lllustated iimes of Indio, copiesof which the Bishophadsenthim in reply to his original letter of inquiry; but thesehad been enoughto lift his expecancy,while he patiently awaited the arrivalfrom Englandof rhe diarymanusmipt,to a very high level.He had alreadyshownthe articlesto psycholoand gistsatDenverand sentthemto a forrnercolleague sociologist,Dr Redfield,now Dean of the University of 246
247
Chicago,to testtheir reactionsto this preliminarymaterial. Thgf had expressedcautiousinterestin the smry and in seeingthe manusctipt when it came through, but Dr Zingg, a born enthusiast,felr justified in writing to the ReverendSinghin lessequivocalterms..From pakenhamWalsh'sarticlealone,I knowI cansay.,Welldone,O good andfaithful servent(szQ",you havedonesciencea great I.cannot imagineyour ms. [not] finding a pub lgTfo": lisher in America,though I havenot yer seenii. I;*ilt surelybe somerewardfor your Christiancharity, when I tell you my honestconvictionthat I addressa manwhose name will go down in all time as one who has madea fundamental contribution to vitally important human knowledge.'z No doubtDr Zingg wasworkingon the assumptionthat it only neededa little flattery and kindnessto establish good relationswith the ReverendSingh, somethinghe believedessential to the success oftheir joint enterpiise; and indeedafter the misunderstanding with Dr Squires this -waspreciselythe right medicineto give the padre. But Zingg'sletter nonetheless betraysa certainnaiveness, a lack of objectivity perhapsand an over-eagerness to please,which were only pardy intendedand would continue to setthe tone for mostofhis correspondence about the wolf children.But more importantlythe letter estaL lishedthat with all his unbounded,good-naturedenthusi. asm for the wolf children project, Dr Zingg was not interestedin exploitingthe diary eitherfor his own financial endsor to enhancehis reputation.He proposedmerely to write an introducdonbriefly summanzingothercasesof FeralMan for the interestof comparison. Beyondthat he appearedto haveperfectlyunderstoodthe Singhs'pressing moneyproblemsand the plight of their orphanage:he promisedto do whathecouldto gettheBishop'smagazine articlespublishedin thepopularpresswithoutcompromising thescientificvalueof the diary MS. He evensuggested - apologrzingfor his own lack of firnds - that the padre
drould write to his wealthy aunt' Mrs Pfeiffer, whom he had already told about the wolf children, in caseshe might like to take an interest in the orphanage. From thc Reverend Singh's point of view it would have been diffi' qrlt to have found a mote conscientiousand obliging agent for his diary; but whether Robert Zingg would serve science as well as he proposed to serve the padre was a different matter. In the short time that he had been acquainted with the story of Kamala and Amala, and that from a second-hand account' he was already very far advancedalong the way to believing in it without any suP porting evidence other than the word of an Anglican Bishop. Moreover, his enthusiasmfor Singh's story was leading him, not without awarenessof the pitfalls' towards championing the cause of Feral Man in bringing the 'I rcalize that associationwith zubject to scientific status. Man,' he wrote to Dr Feral as matter a so controversial 'may prejudice me of Chicago, Redfield [by] association document is as if the But fabulous. and mphical the with internal evimany with as it to be], believe I honest fas dences of genuine harmony with the other cases,I am inclined to take the risk . . . in the belief that truth will get a hearing more readily among scientists than other groups, . . . however destructive it may be to current theory.t3 It was a jubilant, crusading Dt Zingg, who tore.open the promisingJooking package from London, England, only to find that Mr Goffin of the O.U.P. had sent him anotler copy of Bishop Walsh's articles summarizing the diary rather than the diary itself. The MS., it appeared, was still in India. C.restfallen,Zingg wrote to the Bishop the same day explaining what had happened and asking with some trepidation (for he feared now that all along he had misread the situation and that the original had been lost) to seethe Reverend Singh's manuscript. Some weeh later he receiveda letter from the Bishop assuring him that the diary was extant and now at last on its way to Denver. He had assumedin all innocence,though even Bishops are
248
249
not immune to pride of authorship, that becausetlre ReverendSingh'smanuscripthad beenrejectedby pub. Iishersin Englandand his own versionhad met at least with somesuccess, thelatterwouldbeof moreinterest.He acknowledged, of course,that scientistsmight view the diary differently,but still felt that therewasroom for,a more popularwork ... his own. .I still think thacmv accountr'he pleaded,knowing,it must be said,ttrat jl profits would accrue ro the ReverendSingh and hirs orphanage,'would makea smallbookwhichwouldhavea widesaleamongthe ordinarypublic. Alreadymanyof my friendsin Englandand in India are askingme when the bookis comingout. It could be soldcheapand I feelvery zurewouldsell"like hot cakes',.'a While waiting for the diary to turn up, Dr Zingg optimisticallyset to work on the preliminariesof pubiiiation, makingearlycontactwith Macmillansthrougti his friends at Chicagoand, from a list provided by the Reverend Singh,writing to a numberof the mostinfluentialscientists whohadshowninterestin the wolf childrenwhenthestory first reachedthe West. He invited among others Dr RaymondDart, Professorof Anatomy at Witwatersrand University and the celebrateddiscovererof AustalopithecusrDrfunold Gesell,the well-knownpioneerin child development studiesat Yale,andProfessorRugglesGateq a hereditistof London University, to inspectthe manuscript as soonas it arrivedand makeany prefatorycommentsthey might wish to contribute.He alsotook a trip north to visit his old university of Chicagoand discuss with Dean Redfieldthe possibility of organiznga symposiumof anthropologistgsociologistsand psychologists to examinethe diary,andhelp prepareit for publication. Whateverhis own limitationsas an objectiveinvestigator 9f feral truth, Dr Zngg couldnor be accusedof trying to keep his scientificand journalistic scoopto himself- In ChicagoDean Redfield had arrangedfor him ro meet SydneyHollander,a graduatesnrdentin sociology,who
happenedto be writing his doctoralthesison Feral Man, andthoroughlyscierr Zinggthoughthim'very competent tific' and at oncesuggestedthat Hollander, ratler than Singh'sMS. and,if himself,shouldfootnotetheReverend he wished,publishhis thesisasan appendixto the diary' sincehe had beenworfing on t}te subjectfor muchlonger than he had. He would, of course,put his own researches generous at Hollander'sdisposal.It wasa characteristically in his of confidence lack modesty, offer. Whetherthrough distributing in believed he because ownabilities,or simply the load of scientificknowledgeand responsibility,he was anxiousto bring as manyminds to bearon the wolf chil' drenprojectascouldbe ofhelp. Like the ReverendSingh' he was'not abovetaking simplepleasurein the cachetof correspondingwith scientistsof the statureof Dart and Gesell,but he hada betterideathanthe padreof the value oftheir prestigeand whattheir influencecoulddo to makp 'wolf children'respectable if theychoseto comedownon their side.It wouldbe wrongto insistthat Zingg'smind at this stagewasalreadymadeup in favourof wolf children; touchedby the story of Kamalaand Amala,sympathetic towards the ReverendSingh and Bishop Walsh, and excited by the romanceof working on so oudandisha proiect,his characterpredisposedhim to believe,but not his training as an anthropologist:he wasdeterminedthat the facts should be investigatedcorrectly, accordingto scientificmethodandprinciple. The diary and photographsof the wolf childrenfinally arrivedfrom IndiatowardstheendofJune1938.Ifhe had reasonto be disappointedin the manuscripqDt Zingg showedno hesitationin writing back at once to Bishop 'I am delightedwith it . . . asbeingfar Pakenham-Walsh: more intelligent, intelligible and completethan I dared hope.. . it is a scientificdocumentof primarvimportance'ts criticismsof Paul Squireshad prepared The disparaging him for the worst; he couldnot help feelingpleasedthat 250 theyappearedon the wholeunjustified.
25r
As 'a scientific document', however, the Reverend Singh'sdiary left somethingto be desired.For onething it wasno longerstrictly a drary; the chronologicalentries had been rearrangedunder topical headings,such as 'ConductTowards AnimalsandMen', .Modeof Eatingrn 'Intellect - The Power of Understanding',and groupedin chaptersleachentry retaineda date but somehad been rewrittenin the pasttenseto echothe retrospective toneof the philosophicaland analyticalnoreslarer addendedby Singh- in pursuit,no doubr,of his ,greatTruth in Social Biology'. For another,the manusciipthad beencut and editedby BishopPakenham-Walsh, who might havebeen expectedto know betterbut freelyadmittedto havingcorrectedSingh'sEnglish,removedinconsistencies andrepetitionsand'left out certainsectionswherehe indulgedin psychological opinionsof his own,6 - though not all, Insteadof the originaljournal account,the two clergymen hadproducedbetweenthemin theinterestsofscienceand readability a documentwhich fulfilled the preceptsof neither.But, asfar asDr Zinggwasconcerned, theinformation containedin the diary was so extraordinarythat it matteredlittle how the factswerepresented. The reactionsofthe otherinterestedscientists,to whom Zingg duly sentcopiesof the manusuipt, werealmostas favourable,particularlysoin the caseof Dr Gesellat Yale and ProfessorRugglesGatesin London; thoughall were agreedof the necessity- without doubting the fundamental honesty of the document - for checking the ReverendSingh'sstory by everymeansavailableto them. In Chicagothe 'Wolf Children Symposium'under the chairmanshipof Dr Wilton Krogman, the university's senioranthropologistand Dr Zngg's former teacher,set aboutexaminingthe diarywith a viewto preparinga list of pertinentquestionsto be sentto the ReverendSinghin India. No less anxiousthan his colleagues to observe scientificpropriety Zingg was yet keen to seethe diary publishedas soonas possible.Ineviabln with so many
peopleinvolved, the drecking of the manuscriptwas a slow business,but the allowabledelayswere suddenly compoundedby the unexpectedfailure of Mr Sydney Hollander, to whom Dr Zingg had entrustedwhat he regardedasthe keytaskofpreparingthe appendixofcom* parableferalcasehistories,to producesomuchasaninde* after sitting on the proiectfor nearlysixmonths.Without e word of reproachDt Zngg rezumedwork on his own compilation of the data in September1938 and by Januarythe completedmanuscriptof the wolf children diarywith a z6o-pageappendix,footnotesandprefaceshatl arrived at Macmillan's. After an initial display of enthusiasm,however,they werenow talking abouthavingto seek financial assistance,becauseof the unwieldy and ecademicnature of the book, beforethey could hope to publish. In the meantimethe ChicagoSymposiumhad produced their list of nineteenquestionson the text of the diary, carefully censoredto avoid upsetting the padre by any remark that might be thought to impugn his honesty. Theseweresentoffwith a coveringletter from Dt Zingg, the opinion ihat Dr Krogman'squestions who expressed weretoo technical,mostly irrelevantand really not worth unlessthepadrehadnothingbetterto do.He was answering overstatingthe case,but certainly they were not paf,ticularly apt or intelligent questions.The zublime conaskedof a fidencewith which the Chicagoanthropologists half-educatedIndian missionarywhetherhe had studied the wolf children'sfeet'to noteopposibilityof thebig toe' of their iointswas'traceableto or whetherthe enlargement dizuse,or to dieteticimbalance'betrayedasmuchinsensitivity on their side of the cultural divide as Singh and had shownin their misguidededitingof Pakenham-Walsh the diary.Dr Zinggassuredthe padrethat they would not hold up publicationwhile waitingfor his answers.Despite Macmillan's annoyingprevaricationhe had taken heart from a declarationof interest by the British publishers
252
253
and Unwin, to whom professorRugglesGateshad {Xen AJsothe recenrd'iicoveryin the *"w.n *:.*rscript. South African veld of a wild man, said to have been rescuedfrom troop of baboonsby fwo Afrikanerpolice. 1 men, wasreceivinga great dealof publicity in the wodd 91e1s.At onceproclaimedrhe prototypefor Tarzan,the Boy'could do nothingbutgooA, jn-a.Uool ' or soDt iingg believed,for his own porentialMo*glir. Within a monthof the,BaboonBoy, story,theygot theh first break:the purchaseofsecialrightsoftt *oif"niUr"n " {iary by the Hearst Sundry supplement,the American YokU, for Sz5o. The money was wired our to rhe Reverend Singh in Midnapoie, who was more than delightgd--a princelysum *h"o translatedinto rupees,it ydyced theorphanage debtby almostaquarter_andwrote backa gratefulletrer to Dr Zngg, shortly followedby a flpescript of his answersto Dr Krogman's nineteen questionsand an elaborareapologyfor the long delayin sendingthem; he had beenseriouslyill, but ha:ppilywas rToyed and 'up againto proclaimthe glory of My :oT Fatherin Heaven'. The RevergndSingh's answersto their questions,if . they providedlitde in the way of new infornution, surprisedthe Chicagoscientistsby thefudisplayofrestraint, clarity and goodsense.Dt Znggfelt drat his faith in thi padre had been vindicated and even those, like Dean Redfield,who had believedSingh incapableof answering the questionsand favouredan investigationon the spotb; a qualifiednun, wereforcedto acknowledge that he had not donebadly for a layman.Over the morecontroversial claims of the diary - the phenomenonof Kamala and Amala'seyesgivingoffa blueglare,the lengthof their eyeteeth, the formation of their jaw bones- the Reverend Singhhadstoodhis groundandrepliedto the moreor less actfirl suggestions of the scientiststhat suchthinp could not b9 wit{r_ strong afrrmation tlrat zuch rhings were, 1 and that all he had written was true and that he had
exaggerat€d nothing. His answers left litde room for discussion. Dr Zingg, meanwhile, had begun to investigate the feasibility of human eyes glowing in the dark, which he 'the most striking feature of the entire regarded as account', ifonly becauseit had no precedent in other feral cases. Krogman and others insisted it was impossible becausethe human eye,lacking a tapetum (a specialreflecting membrane found in the eyes of many mammals) cannot refract light. With the help of ProfessorRuggles Gates in London, however, Zingg managedto collect a respect: able amount of evidenceto show that the adiustment of the wolf children's vision to the environrnent of the termite mound and a nocturnal existencewas not unique and that despite the absence of a tapetum, night-shining eyes in humans had been recorded from time to time' One account, from a recent correspondencein Naturet was given by a speleologist, Mr E. A. Glennie, who reported observing among cave-dwellers in North India' Dr Zingg "y"-gltt" was quick to point out certain similarities to the lives of the wolf children in the forest of Denganalia. Another coruespondent, J. Herbert Parsons,explained the phenomenon in terms of the retina and choroid acting as mirror undet 'The rareness of "night-shining" in certain conditions. 'is due to the facts that the obhuman eyesr'he added, served eye must be highly hypermeropic far sighted] (or still more rarely very highly myopic), the incident light must be bright, and the observing eye must be so placed t}lat some of the reflected rays enter it.'? whether these conditions obtained in the caseof Kamala and Amala is not really clear since they were neYerexamined by an ophthalmologist and the Reverend Singh's descriptions of the phenomenon, affected no doubt by his own naive belief, ihat the glare was not reflected but actually emanatedfrom the children's eyes,are somewhatcontradictory.Although the results of Dr Zingg's investigations seemedto suggest that the padre had not necessarilyinvented eyes-that-glow-
254
255
in+he-dark, Dr Krogman and others at Chicago,when shown the data by Zingg over a macaronidinner in a Philadelphiarestaurant,refusedto alter their position.In London ProfessorRugglesGatessuggestedLoldly that anatomistswould simply have to restudy the eye and 9langetheir mindsatoui it. In DenverDr Zing,gbA.; ;; dividepeopleinto thosewho werereceptivetolhe ideaof FeralMan and thosewho would not believein him at anv in the battleofthe night-shiningeyeshai .nlicgrHis_victory Ieft him without laurels,but a keener-champion than ever of the truth. Among Zingg'salliesin the controversythat now arose overthe wolf children,noneat this stagewasstauncherin his supportor caried moreweightthan Dr funold Gesell Y{e University. His pioneerwork on the early mental 9f developmentof human beingsat yale's Clinic of Child Development (foundedby him in rgrr originallyto work on the backwardchild) had placedhim amongthe world's Ieadingchild psychologists and gavehim ofall scientists involvedin the casethe bestqualificationsfor the studyof Kamalaand Amala.As a pediatristand clinical psychologist, Gesellhad devotedhis life to observingthe inter_ action-betweenphysicaland mental developmentwhich, he.maintained,takesplacein childrenin defirrites"qu"nces. His achievement,as well as introducing -"thod" of observingand measuringinfant behaviourwhere none existedbefore,hadbeento showthat the mentalgrowthof the child revealsitself in consistentand characteristic behaviourpatterns,governedby lawsof growthsimilarto thosewhich controlthedevelopmentof hisbody'.8Through his writing Gesell'swork was alreadywef known and appreciatedby a wide public in the United States:The MentalGropth of thePre-SchoolChild,An Attas of Infant Behaoiow,andmorerecentlyTheFirst Fioe yearsOf:Life, which wereall accessible to the generalreader,iflrrg.ly throughthegenerous useofphotographs andfilm stilk (the cine-camerawas Gesell'schief researchtool), had made
him a precursorof Dr Spockas an authority on how to bring up children.But thereanysimilarityended.Gesell's generalsequentialtheoryof development, whichattributed certainbehaviourp4tternsin children to geneticallyconditionedchangesin the nervoussystemratherthan social and cultural influences,had establishedhim as a leading hereditist,thoughhis viewson the subjectwerenot dogmatic. He regardedthe division betweenheredity and environmentas a dichotomywhich wasbecomingincreasingly untenable:'Growth is a unifuing conceptwhich rrsolvesthe dualismof heredityandenvironment.Environmentalfactorssupport, inflecq and modify, but they do not generatethe progressions of development.Growth is an impulsion and as a cycle of morphogeneticeventsis uniquely a characterof the living organism. Neither physicalnor cultural environmentcontainsany architeclike the mechanismof growth.Culture tonic anangements notgrow.The glovegoesonthehandI accumulates it does I thehanddetermines theglove.'e The interestthat the story of th€ wolf childrenheld for Dr Gesellneedslittle explanationin the light of his life's work, much of which was concernedwith establishing normsof infant behaviourthroughthe settingup of simple situationswhich are culturally generic for the human qpeciesand with collectingrecordsof locomotion,manipulation, problem solving, and so on as a basis for comparativestudy. 'Only by assiduouslypursuing this fundamentalbiologicalUrhi.nd,'hevnote,randby mapping the intrinsic neuromotor equiprnent can we hope to draw a picture of "the natural man" who exists in the world of science,eventhoughwe shall nevercomeupon an Emile.'loClearlyGeselldid not believehehadfoundhis prototj?e of natural man in Karnala.Regardingher as a potentiallynormalchild, he wasinterestedin her reactiorrs under the extremeenvironmentalconditionsof the wolf's den,providinganalmostcrucialexperimentin theproblem ofnature versusnurture and one which could be seento 256
support his own views. .From the sAndpoint of genetic andoJclinicalpsychology,, he wouldpoint out, (themost significantphenomenon in the life carier of Kamalais the slow but orderly and sequentialrecoveryof obstructed mental growth,tll
257
Gesellfound in Kamala,sstory affirmationof the inr_ mensestamina of human nature and potentialitiesof humangrowtl, which he hadalwaysbelievedin asa child psychologist.His approachto the subject,however,was not exclusivelyscientific.A convincedanti-technologist, !""nlf scepticalof man-madeUtopias, he admitted to havingalwaysbeenfascinatedby storiesof wild childreq whetherasmyth, fact or an idealizedconceptionof manat o.newi{ him p"ih"p, to regard l"gl", whichpredisposed the wolf childrenof Midnaporein a moie romanticlight. It is difficult otherwiseto explain his growingobsession with Kamala- an obsession that wouldnot be satisfied bv contributing a prefaceto the ReverendSingh's diary or risking his own considerablereputationas a scientistin identifying with so conffoversiala topic. Without informing Dr Zingg ot any of the othersinvolvedin the diary qroiecl, Gesell was planning ro write a .philosophical Essay'basedon the life story of Kamala.While the inconsistencies and enormitiesof the diary werebeingcarefully and ponderedover by the ChicagoSymposium, "]""!9d Gesell was busy in the Yale libraries researchinglocj colourand backgroundmaterialto brightenand authenticate his own projectedwork, finding out about bullock carts, Hindu customsand the Bengalclimate and even taling the troublero readup on rhe Indian Wolf By a curiousomissionno ethologistor wolf-experthad asyet beenconsultedover the story ofthe wolf children. On a visit to Washington D.C. in December1939,there_ fore, Dr Geselltook the opportuniryto visit tt Smtn_ sonianNationalZoo and havea closerlook at "the chief protagonists of his feral drama.Making useof his name and contacts,Gesellpersuadedthe keeperto allow him
into the cagegwherehe wasableto meetsom€Canadian timber wolves and cubs face to face, and by crawling aroundon handsandkneesre+xperience,in the imagination at least,somethingof Kamala's'uniqueset of fourfootedrelationships.There waslittle dangerinvolvedand whenhehadhadhis fill of wolf companyheemergedfrom the cagerelievedbut unscathed.As luck would haveit, though,on his waybackacrossthe park,while still musing on the greatmysteriesof nature,Dr Gesellmet up with a smallWashingtondog out for a walk with its owner,Mr J. H. Hechtman.The dog, it seemed,took strongexception to the wolves'scentwith whichhis clotheshadbecome impregnatedand immediatelyset upon him, bringing the dreamingscientistback to reality with a painful bite. A rabiescheckfortunatelyprovednegative. subsequent Efforts to find a publisher for the ReverendSingh's diary had so far met with little success.Macmillan'shad finally pulled out of the project altogether,leavingAllen and Unwin on the othersideof the Atlantic still interested but insistingon financialsupportfrom an AmericanpubThere wasa lisher beforethey would commit themselves. possibilitythat backingmight be providedby Vanguard, thoughthe outbreakof wat in Europehad madeall pub. lirhitrs venturesmore uncertainthan ever, and even Dr Zingg wasmomentarilydiscouraged.From India Bishop whose articles on the wolf children Pakenham-Walsh, Zingg had rather embarrassinglybeen unable to place, took an irritatingly pessimisticview: 'Of courseif a Europeanwar comesr'he had written to Zingg some monthsearlier,'all prospectsof the book sellingwill be readyjust gone.I hada bookofpublicschooldailysermons whenthe GreatWar started,andit killedit!'12And yet,as Dr Zingg would insist, interestin the wolf children was still very muchalivein America:witnessa picturestoryin the NewHaoen Journal Courier, 5 December 1939. Entitbd Wild' Wornen,it showedtwo photographs,one a fadedsnapshotof Kamala,the wolf child, scratchingabout
ln the ReverendSingh'sorphanagecompound,the othera glamorouspin-up of MaureenO'Sullivan,dressedfor the part of Janein a Tasan movie. If the story appearedin bad tasteit wasa very effectiveway of showingthe discrepancyberweenmyth and reality; though whetherthe scientists,who had fed the picture of Kamala to the tournal-Courierto stir up pubticity in the hopeof catching a publisher,sawin that telling juxtapositiona warningto themselves is quiteanothermatter. As Dr Zingg well understoodand otherswould cometo realize,the storyof KamalaandAmalawasin practiceonly preservedfrom the realmofmyth by a singlefact: that of all accountsofferal childrenit wasthe only onewritten bv an eyewitness, who himselfwaspresentaithe captureof a humanchild from an animaldenand from the closecompanyof animals.The ReverendSingh'stestimonyon this point, althoughin itselfnot allowableasscientificevidence without the support of at least one other independent witness,wasclearly fundamentalto any attempt to raise 'wolf children' to scientificstatus.It might seemstrange, therefore,that the Chicagoscientists,who could "on".* themselveswith zuchminure detailsas the ,opposibility, of Kamala'sbig toe, did not male moreeffort to checkthis pivotal aspectof the whole story. Many of them were victims, no doubt, of their own specializedinterests;but there were other considerations,not least the praaical difficultiesof carrying out an investigationover the vast distances,both geographicaland culfural, that separated Midnaporeand Chicago,the fear of offendingthe Reverend Singh by appearingto doubt his word and the fegingly hopelesstaskof trackingdownthe two AngloIndians,RichardsandRose,whoseevidencealonecouldat oncehaveclinchedthe matter.In his diary accountof the rescue,the ReverendSingh, for reasonsknown only to himself,had mentionednoneof the other participanisin the hunt exceptfor Chunarem,whohadtold him aboutthe 'manush-baghas'in the fust placeand his two seryanw, 259
Karan Hansda and Janu Tudu. Dr Zingg knew nothing, for instance,ofthe involvementofthe catechist,Bhagobhat Khatua, or the Maharaiah of Ma1'urbhani's hunting officer, Dibakar Bhanj Deo; perhapsif he had, he would have made some attempt to get statements from themn as he had tried to do so feebly and unsuccessfully with Rose and Richards, for instead of insisting upon the need for zupportiug evidence, he had written to the padre and the Bishop early in 1938 that additional testimony was desirablebut would only'gild the lily of ReverendSingh's thoroughly competent account'. InJanuary r94o ProfessorJ.H. Hutton, a social anthropologist at Cambridge University and an authority on the nibal peoples of British India" sent Professor Ruggles Gatesa cutting from the CalcuttaStatesmanof 16 November 1926,which gavea different account,yet ostensiblyin the ReverendSingh's own words, of how the wo-lfchildren were found. On a missionarytour through a remote district of May"urbhanj the padre, it seems, had been approachedby a poor cultivator ofthe Todha tribe, who hrd taken him to his hut in the fungle and shown him two wildJooking children lying at the bottom of a cage, sick, dirry, covered in sores and evidently close to death. The cultivator refused to explain how the children came to be there, but implored the padre to take them away with him. The Reverend Singh took pity on .the cteatures and brought them back to the orphanageat Midnapore, wher€ with the help of his wife he had nursed them back to health. It soon becameclear, however, from their peculiar habits, their inability to walk or speakand their refusal to eat any food other than raw meat that these were not ordinary children. Curious about their origins, on a return'trip to the iungle he askedthe cultivator to tell him how he had come upon them. Very relucantly, for he was afraid the padre would make him take the children back, the man recounteda story ofhow the two girls had been found in the jungle near by, living with wolves in an old
z6r
termite mound. They had later been captured fo some Santalsand he had foolishly volunteeredto look after them. The Reverend Singh persuaded the man to take him to the spot where the children had been found and after see ing the termite mound and the den, which bore signs of rrcent excavation,acceptedhis story. Interestingly, this account, printed in the Statesman throe days after the apperrance of Bishop PakenhamWalsh's story, gave many of the same details (on the behaviour and death of the mother wolf, for instance) that are found in the Reverend Singh's diary, though which was the original and true version now seemedequivocal.After informing his colleaguesin America of what had happened, Professor Ruggles Gates wrote a letter to the Reverend Singh that was characteristically British in its directness and offered no concessionto the padrets finer feelings. Gates demandedthe truth, but making it plain tlat he wasalready inclined to believe the cultivator's story: 'In scientificmatters,the precisefactsareabsolutelyessential and I want to obtain from you, insteadof the statement given in your diary, the statement direct from the cultivator who made the rescue.If this cannot be done, it may interfere seriously with the whole publication.'l3 The ultimatum was intended chiefly to provoke a showdown with the Reverend Singh, but both Gates and Hutton still consideredthe diary itselfto be a true and valuableaccount, which ought not to be dismissedentirely even if it turned out that Singh had not rescuedthe wolf children himself. In America, too, attitudes were defiantly buolant, though recent news from South Africa that 'the Baboon Boy' had turned out to be a fake inclined Dr Zingg to exerciserather more caution. He wrote to Bishop Walsh asking him to find out from Singh what had really happened and expressing his own view that, native Indians being'rather childish', the padre had probably given rein to his imagination and made himself the hero of his story without realizing that inaccuracy could jeopardize its
l value. Other hopes were dashedwhen the Vanguard Press finally turned down the manuscript of the diary, not becauseofHutton's evidence,but on the basisofa report from an unnamed anthropologist, which was not only extraordinarily critical of inconsistencies, omisions and exaggerationsin the text, but accusedthe Reverend Singh of deliberately manufacturing the wolf children to make money, and put the scientific value of the document at precisely nil. Dr Zingg acknowledged Vanguard's rejection with some reliefl new evidence had turned up, he explained, which would anyway delay publication for a while. In March and April of rg4o two long'and detailed letters arrived from Reverend Singh in answer to Professor Ruggles Gates' queries, giving a full history of Indian press reports on the wolf children and defending his position. Beginning with Dr Sarbadhicarls indiscetion in the Medinipur Hitaishi, Singh explained, without intimating that he himself had once given out several different irccounts, how numerous versions of the rescue story had beenprinted by the provincialpress: Somepapersaidthat I had goneon a shootand capturedtherr in the jungle, and othersthat the Cukivators found them and handedthemovertome,andothersthat I witl the help ofothers d.ugthem out of the wolves' den, and so on. I got so much annoyedat this time at the publicationand the way tle public wascarrying the rescuestory with falseaddition and alteration in the Press,that I did not like to interfere with tleir sate. ments, expectingsimply all this noiseto die ouf and grant us respite. So I avoided to coffect or contradict the Presssimply to allow the newsto die out soon,as I had no intention ofever publishing the Story of tle Rescueor my Study of Children in the Orphanage.My simple aim was purely humanitarian and Christian. I wantedto seethem human beingsagain. [t was not a study for Scienceand its progress.I had no such idea in the leastand did not think of it, till the BishopWalsh persuasivelyopenedmy eyesafter [t]re publications]of rgz6.ra
zhz
Whenthe reporterfrom tlre Statcsnarcameto seehim on 15 Novemberr926 aftet the Bishop had unintentionally leakedthestoryto thepress,Singhclaimedthat hehadtold him 'that this is the true storyand all that . .. the other paperswroteand rewrotebeforethis werenot pardy true and I wasthe very personwho rescuedthem. . .'r15but nonetheless, the Statesman representative had goneaway and written up the Cultivator'sstoryasif it camefrom the padrehimselfand without any explanationof the discrep ancies with Bishop Walsh's account. In retrospectit seemedclearto the ReverendSinghthat he had beenthe victim both of unscmpulousiournalistic practiceand introducinga politicalnote- iealousyon the part ofthe reporter,who resentedthe accreditingofanything worth'He cameto mewith whileto a humbleIndianmissionary. plan to vilify my statementknowingfully a preconceived that I never contradictedbefore any publication in the Pres, and hewasquitesafewith me.'16And indeedhewaq for onceag:ainSinghhadremainedsilent. The letters to ProfessorRugglesGates,though often repetitrvgfull of childish argumentand in placesbright documents. wittr indignation,wereotherwisewell-reasoned They conainedthe satementsof variouspeopleincluding son,who had the typist of the diary andDr Sarbadhicari's seenKamalaat the orphanageand heardfrom the Reverend Singhthe story ofhow he personallyhad rescuedthe wolf childrenfrom the iungle.But perhapsthe bestargument put forwardby the padrein his defencewasthat in August19z6he hadtold the originalstory ofthe rescueto BishopWalsh on his visit to Midnaporeand shownhim the diarywherethe silmestorywaswritten down,presum'How could it be posably under the appropriatedates. 'to sible,'henow asked, giveanotherrescuestory. . . on 15Novemberrgz6,inthe sameyear?It meansthis, that state' the Bishopwhen he would seethe Representative's praiseit Was ment,would naturallythink meto be a liar' 263 worthy for me?And what could I g?rnby it? Rather,on
the other hand, I would lose my estimation before thc public as a first-hand rescuer,would becomea liar. Wat this desirableat all, like a saneman ?'17The samepoint wa$ made by Bishop Walsh himself in a letter to Dt Zingg suggestingthat the order in which the stories appearedin the Statesmaz precluded the possibility that Singh had tried to embellish his account by making himself out to be the rescuer. 'I have not the least doubtr' the Bishop wrote, and he was a man who found it hard to think ill of others, 'knowing as I do the exact careof ReverendJ. A. L. Singh in all his staternents,and his very high standardsoftruthfulness, that the story as he has always given it, is true'.18 Dt Zingg was pleased enough with Singh and the Bishop's answersto write back at onceto congratulate him. Although some of the Chicago scientists wanted to delay publication ofthe diary until the story had been rigorously checked- there appearedto be a possibility now ofZingg .himselfbeing sent out to India as feral investigator - it was the feeling of Gesell, Gates and others, as well as his orrn, that since the Midnapore casewas so strong, they should press ahead with the difficult task of finding a publisher. Nothing daunted, Dr Zingg's enthusiasm was onse mofe gaining momentum, yet while expressingfull confidencein the Reverend Singh and all his works, he let the padte understand for the first time that he was putting a grelt deal of faith in his word.'The revelationof any inaccuracies in your accountr' he wrote, exerting a little moral pressure,'would do great harm not only to yourselfand to t}te record of the wolf children, but also to me and my car€er.tle In an especially uncnrous reply the Reverend Singh assuredhim that neither ofthem had anything to fear from the truth; he felt perfectly clear in his coiucience and was looking forward very much to receiving his 'benevolent friend'in Midnapore, where they would have the opportunity of verifying all that he had written about the wolf children. There wasnothing ambiguousabout the letter and yet Singh's endearing pomposity, his dreadful
264
homilist style and painfully fucmred English covercda perplexityofcharacter and confirsionofmotives, drawn both from ancientand morerecenthistory, that wereentirely lost on RobertZingg. Dr Gesellwas not inclined to regardthe Singh diary as a hmx. Its very naivety,omissions,minor contradictionq the paucity of the record for the last fwo yearsof Kamala'slife, andparticularlythe photographicdocumentstion - which he was better qualified than anyoneto iudg" - seemedto him to provide adequateinternal evidenceof Singh's honestyand the document'sworth. 'Caution aswell ascredulity rnayoveffeachitself . . .' he suggested toZingg, 'it would beunfortunare,ifnot unfair, if the recentscepticismgainstoo muchground.'2oUnfortunate and unfair, if only becauseGesell had by now written his 'Philosophical Essay' on Kamala'slife and wantedto seeit published.He had asyet menrionedthis work to Zingg only in rather\ragueterms,but assuredhim that it couldnot possiblyinterfere*'ith the placingof the diary.In fact,just the opposite:'I shouldthink that the publication of the Essaywould have only a favourabh effecton the publicationand ultimate circulationof your ownstudyandthediary.'2lAt Zingg'srequestheinterceded with his own publishers,Harper's,on behalfof the diary, but with only qualifiedsuccess:Flarper'swere definitely interested,but only ifthe costofproduction wereunderwritten by someuniversityor foundation.Meanwhilethey wereIookingwith rather moreenthusiasmat Dr Gesell's morepopular'Philosophical Essuy'which astheworkof oneoftleir authorsthey hadnaturallyinsistedon seeing too.
265
In view of Dr Zingg's proprietorialrights to the wolf children diary Harper's alacritousdecisionto publish Biographl of a Wolf Child as a slendervolume of nine chaptersmight haveproveda sourceof embanassment to its author.But in askingZingg's permissionto go ahead with publication- a requestthat wouldbe extendedto the
ReverendSingharrdBishopWalsh* Dr Gesellofferedan explanationof his own motivation that all concerned 'I would find irresistible: wrote this expositionfrom an 'I insistent inner compulsionrthe confessed, was so hauntedby Kamalaand Amalathat I could not exorcize them until I had written out,a story which woultl satisfy my own questionings.In so doing I hope I have also written somethingwhich will help others,particularlylay to readers,for thereis a profound,unfathomedresistance pleased if be I should of Feral Man. And the acceptance preiudices break down will my stepby stepinterpretation lessmoved bythepsyche scepticism.'22No of antipathyand than by his shared, he also ofan obsession logist'savowal his book to the on the royalties donate half offer to with his usual Zngg Dr ageed orphanage, Midnapore demands,includinga request generosityto all of Gesell?s to usethe best of the wolf-childrenphotographsas illus trations. If it ever occurred to him that he was being scooped,that his fire wasbeingstolenby a fellowscientisg Dt Zingg wasmuch too pleasedby the cachetof Arnold beingattachedto his projectandtheimmi*' Gesell's'name ent prospectof Feral Man achievingscientificrespectebility, to mind.After readinga proofcopyof the'Essay' he 'Your brilliant, moving, felt inspiredto write to its author: volume but succinctsummaryasa slenderandinexpensive shouldhavea favourableresulton the eventualpublication of the completework . . . it is a splendidiob, popularand yet reflectingmanyinsighs into the (feral)problem,dueto your expertness on the child.'23 The problemwasyet far from beingresolvbd.InJanuary r94r, two monthsprior to publicationof Gesell'sbook,an article appearedin the AmericanJournal of Prycholog, atackingthe very conceptof FeralMan. WayneDennis,a child psychologistat the University of Virginia, takinga recentarticlebyDr Zinggin the same/omnalasthe basis of his critique, rejected the availableevidencethat a 266 humanchild had everbeenraisedby wild animalsasun-
convincing,andput forwarda well-reasoned argumentthat feralchildrenwereprobablymentaldefectives, whosecondition hadbeen'explained" andexploitedby an interested discovereror family. Citing Zingg's own expos6of the 'BaboonBoy' story,hesuggested thatinviewof theuncertainty which surroundedall suchstories,they shouldnot beusedto zupportcertainsocialandpsychological theories of humannature: namely,that deprivationof socialcontact in the earlyyearstendsto preventthe later socialization ofthe individual,that the formationofearly habitshas a relativelypermanenteffecton the individual and more crudely that 'environmentalconditioning' can in some circumstances be total. WayneDennis wasperhapsjustified in this lasr point, for Drs Zngg andGesellwerealreadyreceivinginquiries about the wolf children from sociologistsand psychologists who wanted to include the story of Kamala and Amalain their textbooksto illustratethesevery theories. But his generalcritiqueof FeralMan, asDr Zinggpointed out in a rejoinder article, did not take into accountthe crucial significanceof the Midnaporecasewith its eyowitness description of the capture of children from animals(no longer,it seemed,in any doubt)and the supporting evidencefor their truly feral behaviour- indeed, couldnot, until all the facs weremadeavailable.Repudiating the suggestion that hewasattemptingto provea thesiq Zingg confidentlyassuredProfessorDennisthat whenthe diarywaspublishedthe full accountofthe Midnaponecne woulddo muchto clarifi' the problemshehadraised. Dr Gesell'sbook,retided Wolf Child,andHamanChild, cameout in Americain March r94r to a modestfanfareof, publicity.Wolf childrenwereinstandyalen up as'an issue' by Timenagazine,clearlyconcerned to befirst in putting e political perspectiveon the subject.Layrngresponsibility for the FrenchandAmericanRevolutionssquarelyon the feral shouldersof the Hessianwolf boy, the model for z&7 Jean-Jacques Rousseau'stheories about 'natural man'n
Time announcedgtibly that subsequent'stories of vild childrenbecamesuspectas radicalpolitical propaganda'. Therewasnothingsubversive, however,aboutDr Gesellls book. Seizingupon I rhetorical questionraisedby the author,'CAN WOLF WAYS BE HUMANIZEDI', the editors of Time put environmentalistsin their place with an authoritative'no': 'A wolf or evenan aperearedin the ReverendSingh'sorphanage wouldnot attaina human personality.'24 In the moreseriousandacademicpress,wheretherewus Iessconcernfor its politicalsignificance, the bookreceived a mixed recepion. A goodreview by the anthropologisg MargaretMead,wasoffset,for instance,by'a hair curlq' in the Nez Republic,which suggested with cruel but incisivewit that Dr Gesellhadmadea completefool ofhimself in producingan embarrassingly written and quite unconvincing narrative,from which he drew conclusionsttnt happenedto confirmhis own pet theorieson the heredity/ environmentdebate.Dr Zngg, who unwiselyprotested againstthe irresponsibilityof the review,wasdismissedas a manwho did not understandthe natureofevidence.The reviewer, however,a professionalsceptic by name of BergenEvans,wasnot asimpartialashis Professorship in English at NorthwesternUniversity suggested.He had evidentlytakenthOferal questionvery much to heart,fur in January r94r, when a summaryarticle on the wolf childrenhad beenpublishedit HarpersMagazine,he had written to 'anyone ... with one speckof honestyor decencyconnectedwith the editorial staff of Ho,rpen Magozinc'anoutragedletter,concluding:tDr Gesellis probablysenile,possiblydishonesgandcertainlyilliterate. That Yale employshim is, to a collegereacher,humiliating, And that Harfers prints his maunderingsis disgraoeful.'2s He had also written in a similarly abusivevein to Gesellhimsel{,though whetherhis crankishspleenhad beenprovokedby the psychologistor by the wolfchildren remainsunclear. 268
269
Apart. from Bergen Evans's review, which though . devastatingenough,was more literary in characterthan scientific, and not informed by closeknowledgeof the ReverendSingh's diary, Itolf Child and Hwnan Child escapedseriouscriticismuntil the appearanc€ ofan article by.a socialanthropologist,David G. Mandelbaum,in the of the Journal of Social psychologl1.Here {:ly -"-y" Mandelbaumraisedtwo important points: one, that the acceptance or rejectionofthe story.asan historicalevent involving wolvesas foster parents' dependedentirely on the testimonyof one man,the ReverendSingh: the other that eveni-f-th9story be accepteda{itrue, the diary itself wassojumbled,vagueandconuadictorythat it couldnever haveanyrealscientificvalue.Comparingotheraccountsof wolf childrenwith that of ReverendSingh,he cameto the conclusionthat the closesimilaritybetweenthemindicated either the srandardbehaviourof Feral Man, or (which seemedto him more likely) .the familiar occunenceof parallelelementsin awide-spread folk tale'.26Dr Gesellhad merelyincreasedits circulationandrekindleda conuoversy centuriesold. In Midnapore Wolf Child and Human Child.was less equivocallyreceived.The ReverendSingh declaredhimself struck dumb with admirationfor the book: .Great Scientistasyou arer' he wrote with difficulty, for he had been.sufferingfrom coniunctivitisfor the past three months, 'it is simply impossiblefor me to expressmy appreciationof it on the samelinb of your knowlidgeani experience'27;but he went on nonethelessto deliver a panegyric,which graduallytransferredfrom Gesell,sto his own contributionto 'human knowledge',developinglike somanyofhis lettersnowinto a self-congratulatory prayer, that wasalsoa reproachfor all his trials, persecutions and pressingdebts. Yet the padre would ioon have good reasonto rejoice,for not longafter receivinganother$z5o from the sale of Gesell'sarticle in HarpersMagaziiu, which further reduced the orphanagedebt to about
2ooorupees,he heardfrom Dr Zinggthat his own worlg TheDiary of the Wolf Childrenof Midnl,Pnrewasgoingto be publishedby Flarper's.IWs Pfeiffer, Robert Zing{s wealthyaunt,whoseestatehadbeentied up sincethe death ofher husband,couldnowaffordto underwritethe costof, production. Dr Zngg generouslyattributed the final impetustoof Dr Gesell's wardspublicationof the diaryto thesuccess book, but the determinationhe had shownover the last four yearsin gettingKamalaand Amala'sstory into print and aying to raiseit to scientificstatusrevealeda closer involvementin a subject,with which Gesell(ashe would soon be anxiousto point out) had enjoyedonly a mild 'Perhapsthe problemwhich really deserves infatuation. 'is attention,'David Mandelbaumconcluded, an attempt to ascertainwhy this tale hasbeensouniformly attractive to men of varioustimes and places... When men of scienceacceptevidenceas tenuousas this, we may well wonderaboutthe pervasiveappealof the ancientmotif.'28
C.hapterTwelve
The confidentlettering on the gatepostshad worn faint; the oncepukkagates,longsincefalleninto disrepair,had beenreconstitutedwith bundlesof rattanand bambooand were scarcelydistinguishablenow from the brushwood fencethatsurrounded thecompoundltheimpression from the road wasofa neuroticand ineffectualstockade.The whitelime-washandgreenshutterpainton thefront ofthe house,faded,stainedand blistering no longergleamedso impressivelytfuoughthe trees.A pile of buildingmaterials by theveranda,setasidetwentyyearsagofor the daywhen therewould be enoughmoneyto put a roof on the prayer room,lay undisturbed,silted over with earth and weeds. The unfinished aspectof the orphanagebuildings had beengiven a kind of permanence;tley wore that air of hopelessdefiancewhich sooneror later overtakesmost buildings in India and somehowsustainsthem, lending digmty to their resignedstand againstthe implacab[ climate.In the deteriorationof 'The Home'there wasthe addedpoignancyofrelinquishedpretensions, offailure to keepup the standardsoforderlinessthat distinguishedthe British way from the native. Only the ReverendSingh's compoundhadremainedtrue to its disant conceptionof a gardensomewherein Surrey. The pathsand tubs were kept asneatlyasever;the fruit treesandvegetablegarden still providedan importantsupplementto the orphanage's meagrediet. Still the lush oasisin the surroundingwaste. land of Gope,it washis placeof perennialsanctuaryin a changingandincreasinglyhostileworld. The orphanagehad fallen on hard times. There were
' fewer children nowl necessity hed restricted new admis. sions in recent years and nearly all of Kamala and Amala's contemporaries had gone out into the world. Some of the orphans, mostly former child-widows, or otherwise unmarriageable girls, had stayed on into adulthood and contributed what they could - though it was hardly in proportion to what they conzumed - to the upkeep of the institution that had become their permanent home. The orphanage teaching staff had been disbanded and those children who were still of school age attended the Mission High School run by the American Baptists as free dayscholars.To the ReverendSingh it was a humiliating state ofaffairs, but he had no choice. The three house servants paid for by the government (his entidement as pastor of St John's Chuch) remained with the family, but they were getting old and slow at their work, their uniforms hung in atters and three extra mouths to feed sometimesseemedtoo much to pay for their fidelity. fu the price of rice rose inexorably against the padre's fixed and pitifully small pension and other strictures and pressureswere brought to bear by the war economy,life at'The Home'was reduced to a struggle for survival that threatened the very principles on which it was founded. The Revetend Singh's support for the Allies and India's war effort, however, was scarcelyaffected by personal considerations. His loyalty to the Government remained as staunch asever, while his contempt for the nationalists and Gandhi's vacillating intellectual anarchism now knew no bounds. The Mahatma's advocation of non-violence in responseto fascist aggressionand his rtmarkable advice to the British people that they should lay down their arms and their lives before the Nazi storm-ffoopers to show their moral superiority by passiveresistance,had left the padre bitterly indignant. He had little rnore slmpathy for the inconsistenciesof Congress,whose attitude towards nonviolence shifted through tle various phases of the war ' 272 according to its expedienceas a political weapon.
llaving resignedits provincial ministries in 1939over the automatic inclusion of India in the warn .without the consent of the Indian peopte', Congresswas approached by the Government in August r94o in an attempt at recorF ciliation, which included the offer of dominion status for India as soon as the war ended, provided the various political parties could agreeon a constitution, and in return for wartime cooperationl while hostilities lasted, t}e g:enting ofindependen@ was held by the Viceroy to be lmpracticable. The Government's offer wasrejected by the leading Hindu and Moslem parties and after Ganahi nad been refused the dght to preach pacifism to soldiers and munition workerg Congressbacked him in a limited civil disobediencecampaign. Although it failed largely through Iack of pqpular supporq in Midnapore and other;politidl, towns the disturbances accompanied by wholesalearrests ' of C,ongresssalJagra,h* continued through the summer of 1941. By the end of the year more than zo,ooo people would be sent ro gaol; but the fire and passion of the previous decade were somehow lacking; the war had produced a political stalemate.In spite of their protest, the majority of nationalists, now that freedom was within their grasp, rfferewilling to wait. Although no one could guess that within six years the British would quit India altogether, the inevitability of change foreshadowedthe count4'rs fufure. Change meant the progressive Indianization of government and the pros. pect of knowing India governed by Indians filled the Reverend Singh with despair. In Midnapore he had already had a foretasteof what was to come. Since the departure in r937 of Percival Griffiths, who had been sent to restor€ order after the murder of the three previous magistrates, the chief administrative posts in the district had been filled by Indians. The special relationship which the padre had enjoyed in the past with British officials did not zurvive this Iimited transference of power. If anything, his former 273 position of privilege counted against him with his new
masters.In June r94r Singhsuferedthe rareindignity of losinghis HonoraryMagistracy,traditionallythe safestof sinecures.A personalrow with a local barristerhad provokedhim into losinghis temperin court and makingan unedifyingscene,at which the District Judgehad asked him to hand back his gown and resignfrom the bench. Singh compliedbut not without bitternessor recrimination. Humiliated by what had happenedand resentfulof the Judge'sorder - the more so becausehe had always and scrupulously pridedhimselfon beingaconscientious morehe had that once ironestmagistrate he recognized Wthdrawing persecution. beenmadethe victim of cruel from public life to the safetyofthe orphanage,olderthan his yearsat sixty+ight andsufferingfrom depressionand bad health,he resignedhimselfto a self-imposedmartyrdom. Whenthe rainscamethat summerillnesspreventedhim from conductingservicesat St John's, but he was too proud to makeexcuses.His old enemieson the Church Committeedid not hesiate to report the matter to the a rumourthat he hadlost his Bishopandevenencouraged faith: for sometime now, they claimed,the Reverend Singh had stopped visiting his parishionersand had becomelax about fulfilling the basicduties of a priest. Only ReverendMolony in Kharagpur,though under no cameto his defence illusionsaboutthe padre'susefulness, becausehe felt sorry for him. Singh no longer had any allies in Calcuta; contact with his superiorshad been reducedto squabblingwith Father Balcombeover tiny zums of moneyand taking opposingsidesin any local attitudetowardsSinghhad scandalor intrigue.Balcombe's Anglo-IndianMissionary fromthe hardenedsincehearing padre had recentlyreceivedro,ooo the Lionel Hewitt, that payment his diary of the wolf for America in from rupees children and wasspendingthe moneyon decoratinghis housein lavishstyle.There waslittle truth in the allegation: Arnold Gesell'sbookhadyet to bring in anyroyalties 274
275
and his own work wasnot evenpublished;the orphanage debt still stoodat 2ooorupees,apparentlyirredeemabti. Yet Singhhimselfwaspartly to btamefor Hewitt's invention, for he liked to talk aboutAmericaandto boastof his correspondence with the world,sleadingscientistsand of their gratitude and respectfor his own contribution to 'socialbiology'. He assuredHewitt andotherswho would Iisten that the financialrewardswere bound to be considerable,and with vulgarinsistencepointedout that consideringall that he and his wife had expendedon the wolf childrenit would be no more than a just return for their charitable labours. He lived in hope of money from America and would die still hoping, but his ambitious plansto spendit all on rebuildingthe orphanage andleave a Iastingmonumentto his family nami actedupon the realityof his impoverishedcircumstances only asanincitement to doting avarice. There were moments of relief from the oppressive atmosphereof poverty.The incongruousstrainsof Harry Lauder, the Mayfair Orchestraand snatchesof ragtime wereoften heardnow drifting acrossthe veranda,where theReverendSinghlited to lie backin his favouritelongchair and listen to the gramophone,operatedand assiduouslywoundby oneofthe orphans.He spentlong hours listening to music, askingalwaysto hear again his two favouriteunes, Abidepith rneandHome,speetHome.He readas much as his eyesightwould permit; he gardened and potteredaboutthe compoundlat times he seemedalmostcontented.But evenat his most affable,when the caresof orphanageand Empire had been temporarily banishedby someresonance ofa happierpast,his moodi remainedtreacherousand he would suddenlyfly into a rageor sink into broodingmelancholywithout rpp"r.rrt provocation. Relationswith his family, alwaysprecariouslybalanced, had deteriorated. Still refusingto relentagainstDanielten yearsbeforehehadattendedhis son'swedding,but the
two men had hardly seenor spokento eachother since- hs now proceededto fall out with his daughters. The eldesg heeti Lota, whose husband had died in 1935, wished to marry again someone the padre considered unsuitablel while Buona Lota he had discovered in unfortunate circumsances to be living with a man, who was not only married but a Mohammedan. What hurt him most perhaps was that both women had subsequently ignored his injunctions and, while continuing to profess their love and respectfor him as their father, had defiantly refused to give up their men. The unquestioning obedience he had once demanded and received from his family, his orphans and even his parishioners, was given no longerl the vested authority, upon which his whole life dependedfor its meaning and his character for its plausibility, had been cruelly undermined. Even the town children, whom he had always inspirbd with mild terror, regarded him now as a figure of fun and taunted him quite openly, daring each other to steal the orphanage guinea fowl from under his nose and laughing at his enraged threats to set his dogs after them. Only his wife kept faith with him, defendedhis digtt,ty and protected him from the reality of his own diminishment. Subrnitting meekly to unreasonable de. mands, calmly bearing the strain of uncertain moods and violent outbursts of temper, she indulged his tyranny as a mother indulges an exceptional child of whom she is a little afraid. Out of fear, loyalty and afection for her husband, Mrs Singh made herself a compliant scapegqat; but the effectiveness of her sacrificial role depended on the perverse condition of her remaining in his eyes utterly beyond moral reproach. Her fall from grace was to send him into a fit of depressionfrom which he never recovered. On discoveringthat one ofhis orphanagegirls had been subfectedto the unwelcome attentions of the son of a local rice merchant, the litigious padre determined to file a suit ag:einst the boy for 'eve-teasing'. Mrs Singh did her
276
sn
utnost to persuadeher husb*nd not to take the matter:to court, but he was adamant - the reputation ofthe orphanag€wasat stake.In despairMrs Singh confessedthen what she had known for some time. The young couple were in love, they had been seeingeachother in secretand had exchanged 'letters, which, if produced in court by the boyls defence, would show that the girl was hardly an innocent victim. The padre, who had already made his intentions Lnown to the Judgels C.ourt, was appalled. He realized that he did not have a case. It was for him the culminating humiliation. The orphanage,his beloved'Home', his life's work" had been reduced to litde better than a brothel - and with his wife's connivance.He could not understandthat she had not condonedthe couple's behaviourso much as tried to protect them f,rom his anger. He saw only that she had betrayed him. He spent that night in his chair on the veranda refusing to come inside, or ear anlthing or talk to anyone. The next day he developed a chill which turned overnight into an atack of influenza. He allowed himself to be put to bed, but for days continued his fast in wilful silence; ignoring his wife's entreaties, he even reiected the medicines pre. scribed for him by Dr Sarbadhicari. He seerned derermined not to recover, as if he wanted to punish her with the responsibility for his death. The infection did not kill hirn, but it had aggravatedhis diabetes and left him seriously weakened.Unable now as well as unwilling to eat, he lost weight with alarming rapidity and gradually lapsed into a coma. There were moments of recruitment and lucidity when he would ask repeatedly for news from America, and Mrs Singh, in the hope of giving him causeto live, would reassurehim with improvised bulletins from Dr Zingg announcingthe imminent publication of his diary. But his appetite did not improve. She was forced to recognizethat her husband was dyrng. Towards the end he rallied zufficiendy to receive friends
andmembersof his family cometo taketheir leaveof him. They wereshockedby what they found: the old manwho staredup at them from the pillows, gey-faced, gauntastherobust framedandafraid,wasno longerrecognizable andproud missionarythey had knownandloved.In a low whisper,sothat theyhadto bendcloseto hear,catchingthe sweet scent of his diabetic's breath, he beggedtheir forgiveness.With the exceptionof Daniel, whom he persistendyrefusedto see,he beggedthe forgivenessof all who came,whetheror not there wasanythingto forgive, repeatinghimselfuntil his supplicationstook on the babbling continuanceof litany. Attributed by his family with a numberofpropheticbut zuitablyambiguouslastwords,the relevanceof which has sincebeenforgotten,in his ultimatedeliriumtheReverend to havecursedthe doctorwhohadcome Singhis supposed to give him an injection- his deathbedfear ofthe needle oddlyreminiscentofKamala's- andshoutedout at thelast 'Asha!', the Bengaliword for hope.This wasinterpreted ofioy at the imminby someof his friendsasanexpression Fatherin heaver4 prospect with His of beingreunited ent point of death,the that at the mainained while others to life. padreclungwith a suddenfierceness He died of heart failure at rr.5o on the morningof z7 Septemberr94r. The next day he was buried in an outsizecoffin that had to be speciallymade for him, alongsidehis fatherandgrandfatherin St John'scemetery. The ReverendMolony conductedthe funeral servioe attendedby a large mixed congregation.The mourners were not exclusivelyCluistian and, ranging from tle Raiahsof NarajoleandJhagramto a contingentof Santals, covereda widesocialspectrum,for in spiteofhis declinein latter years,throughoutthe territoriesofhis formerparish and missionfield he had beena well-knownand popular figure. Although he died severalmonthsbeforehis diary was finally published,the ReverendSingh had already achievedlastingfame.'Outside the diocese,'his obituary 278
lnthe CalcuttaDiocesan Recordpredicted,'his namewill long be rememberedbecauseof the two Wolf Children whom he discoveredand loo\ed after for someyearstill they died.'l In all fairness,however,it matteredmore to him that in takingKamalaandAmalafrom the iungleand trying to raise them as human beings he had, as he believed,servedGod and consequently scienceto the best of his abilities.
279
In Denver,thenewsofthe RwerendSingh'sdeathcame asa sadshock;for althoughplansfor thepublicationofthe wolf-childrendiaryhadbeentemporarilyheldup, owingto Mrs Pfeifferhavingfallen out with her nephewover the break-up of his mariage, Dr Zngg had been looking forward to sharingwith the padrethe pleasureofseeing their book in print. He had also hoped, when rhe war ended,to visit Singh in India and checkall the evidence with him at first hand to removeonce and for all any residualdoubtsabout the authenticityof his story. Not that he himself neededconvincing,but it would have silencedthesceptical. In Januaryry42 Dr Zingg heardthat his auntr'swayed by a personalvisit from the augustDr Gesell,had finally beenconvincedof the importanceof her nephew'swork and relentedon the subjectof his marriage,agreeingone moreto providethe financialbackingfor their project.She insistedonly that the diarybepublishedundertheauqpices of a university.The obviouschoicewasthe Universityof Denver,though Dr Zingg madeit known that he would havepreferredsomewhereelse,for he had recendybeen given notice at Denver that due to a wartime fall in enrolmenthe wasshortly to be maderedundant.'This is despitethe fact that my salaryhere,'he wroteindignantly to Dr Gesell,'is paid by Mrs Pfeiffer who had the good faith to give them fifty thousanddollars in six per cent preferredstockin her company.'iMrs Pfeiffer, howwern decided that a firther donation might help save her
nephew's career and duly sent Denver a cheque for r5oc dollars to subsidize llarpers' publication. The future of the diary, if not the professorshipof Dr Zingg, was now at long last assured. There were, no doubt, other reasonswhy Zingg lost hie place at Denver. His amiable eccentricity had never en' deared him to the authorities, and despite their avowed sympathy, his marital problems had becomean embarrass' ment to the university - a suicide attempt by his Germanborn wife causing consternation on the campus; but more significantly, Zingg's work on the wolf children was regarded by many as too controversial and by someeven as I subversive influence. By August tg4z he was looking for another iob, but personalworries were soon forgotten in his excitement over the publication of the Diary. If there was a senseof anticlimax in the culmination of four years'work, he preferred to dwell on the triumph of their perseverance. In a letter to Dr Gesell he thanked him for his long standing antl decisively influential support' which he 'swung the trick'with his aunt as well as at believedhad 'In closing,' he wrote, tit occurs to me that Harpers. getting this problem of wolf children into scientffic status has been almost as hard as Mrs Singh's devoted efforts to get the wolf children to human satus in the first place.'3If neither operation had been a complete success,it was not a point to dwell upon. Dr Zingg ended his letter on a mole 'And so, as Tiny Tim observed,*God reassuringnote: blessus one and all", and what a pity that Reverend Singh did not live to seethis day.'a In reply Dr Gesell capped this last sentiment with a warm'amen', yet his letter be*ayed aberain coolnessslt Zingg's enthusiasm and gratitude over his own involvo'I wonder whether yotr ment in the wolf-children affair. could not conveniently send me a carbon ofthose portions of the M S. which definitely refer to my connection and patticipation,'s he wrote with studied ease.It was the beginning of a tactical withdrawal.
z8o
When it finally appearedin print lToffihildren and PcralMan did nor makethe impoctwith which its authors hadhopedto stun the world. While the popularpresshad Iargelyexpendedits curiosityin the subjecton Dr Gesell's bookr'academic reviewersrerruinedon the wholeunconvinced by Zingg's argument and Singh's .proof' that children had beenrearedby wolves.Somenoticrs, particularly by anthropologists, wereharshlycritical.Of tlese the best temperedand yet the most successfulin its demolition of the Zingg-Singh book came from the physicalanthropologis!fuhley Montague,who, allowing that the padre'saccountof Kamala and Amala despite certaindifficultieshad the ring of authenticity,could not acceptthe story as true becauseit rrlied on the unsuF ported testimonyof one man. 'Now, howevermuch,the pleaded, andhoweversympathetically wemightbe inclinedto put our trust in Mr Singh's word, no scientistcan acceptas true aly statement. . . until it has been independentlyconfirmed by otlrers.Such confinnationis akogetherwanting in the present case,and,tlrat beingso, with all the goodwill in the world, and in spiteofali the forewordsandprefacesin the world by learned professors,bishops and magistrates,we canoot accept th€ story ofdiscoveryofthe wolfchildren andtheir presumedreariry by wolvesastrue . . . Even if the satementwerefully cormboratedthat the childrenwerefound togetherwith the wolves in th€ir deq tlat in itself, would not constituteevidencethat they were brought there by wolveg nor that they had been zuckledand rearedby tlenr-6
8t
His argument was uncompromisingand rigorously sciertific and in that samespirit he took Dr Zingg to_taskfor lack of impartiality in his examination of the evidence, though he sympathized with him in his enthusiasm for a subiect with which unfortunately he had allowed himself to get carried away. A year before, shortly after Dr Gesell's article on the wolf children appeared in Harpcrs Atlagazine,Professor
Montaguehad written pn*t"ly to Gesellthat he person'entirely credible',andeven-now after ally foundhis article emotionhimself declared he the diary of reading a critical ally in favour of Kamalaand Amala'sstory, though as a scientisthe felt boundto reiectit. His attitudewassigni' so manyothers,illustriousscientistsamong ficant because to recognizethe necessityof makingthat had failed them, whatthey wantedto believeandwhat between distinction of assessment might havebeenrevealedby a dispassionate the availableevidence.It was a questionof recognizing, too, the essentialpower of the story and the archeqaal appealof the myth whichlay behindit. Dr Gesellhadlong understoodthat the issuesofthe wolf-childrenstory went deep,but he wasstill moreconcernedwith explainingunfathomed resistanceto the feral idea than precipitate More than afly otherhe hadbeensubjectedto acceptance. the reactionsof thoseanti-Darwinians,whosebeliefsin human 'instincts' and inflexible inheritedtenilencies,as well asan erclusivelyhuman'soul', seemedthreatenedby tlre very notion of a wolf child. In his reviewof theZingg' 'Profoundpreiudicesarestirred SinghbookGesellwrote: We shuninstinctivelytoo closeidentificaif not awakened. or tion with lupus evencanisfamiliatis. Nevertheless,in thesedaysof inhuman warfare,we may havereasonto temperwith a trace of humility, our senseof zuperiority But he wason the defensivenow, overthe wolf species.'? painfully awarethat he hadgonetoo far made been having the otherwayandthat asa scientisthispositionwasuntenable.Without altogetherrenouncingthe wolf children,he beganbaclsliding. in a rearguard After the war,with Dr Zinggstill engaged actionagainstcritics of the diary, Gesellwould announce that he no longerwantedhis namemixedup lr,it. Zngg 'It wroteto him, scarcelyhiding his disappointment: has beenstatedthat you havealsostoppeddefendingthe basic claimsmadein the bookwith regardto the childrenbeing hiscolleague z8z rearedin thewolf den.'8But Gesellreassured
that this wasnot the case.With othershe could be rather less specific,claiming that although he had helped to ensurepublicationofthe diary,hehadneverregardedhimself as its sponsor,nor acceptedit uncritically in all its detail,but thathebelievedit to be.a bodyof validmaterial which dealswith a remarkablecaseof isolation which needsconstructiveinterpretation,suchasI haveattempted in my small book'.eIn the meantimehe was somewhat gladofa slackeningofinterestin the wholesorrybusiness; the rearing of children by wolves having neither been provednor disproved,it soonfrzzledoutinto inconclusive controversy. Unableto find anotheracademicpost,for reasonsof the war as much as any other, Robert Zrngg, armed,with a characterreferencefrom Dr Gesell,took a temporaryiob with a governmentagencyin the north and then returned to Denverin January rg43to be an instructor in photographyat Lowry Field Air CorpsTechnicalSchool.Subsequently his former colleagueswere not altogether surprisedandperhapsalittle-relievedto hearnothingmore of him. Overthe four yearstheyhadworkedtogether on the wolf-childrenproject, Dr Zingg had beena voluminous andregularcorrespondent, but absences andsilenceswere becomingcommonplace duringthe war andnow that little remainedto be saidon the subjectthat had oncebrought them together,there was no real reasonfor keepingin touch. However,in the late summerof ry44 Dr Geselland ProfessorRuggles Gates each receiveda letter from RobertZingg, written on AmericanRed Crosspaperand - ofall places- India. It began,with his usual postmarked disregardfor the Englishlanguage:'Life is full coincidentsl but my work with the wolf children study much
283
more so.tlo The letter went on to explain that having joined the Red Goss for overseasservice in April that ycar, after
spending only two weels in Washington, he had been sent to ioin the American troops in Assam, which by another coincidence, he pointed out, was Bishop Paken* ham-Walsh's old diocese. After a pleasant voyage out by troop+hip they had landed somewhereon the west coastof India and travelled acrossthe country by train to Calcuta. During the ten dayshe was stationed there getting acclimatized and waiting for transport to Assam,Zingg decided to visit Mrs Singh in Midnapore. He sent a telegram to tho orphanage informing her of his arrival, not knowing whether she was still living there, or even still alive. When I heardthat she wasthere for zure, I left Calcutta on the Madras Mail on which I travelled for only sixty mileg getting off at the first stop outsideCalcutta.Here I waslucky enoughtocatchabranchtrainon which I travelledfor ffieea rniles to get off at the (to us) historic place of Midnapore. I took a picture of the characteristicRR pladorm station sign, this one bearing the name MIDNAPUR. I wasn't too sure that this wasMidnapore as I hadn't beenin India for"a week But it turned out to be. I got a babu at the stationto direct the horsedrawn vehicle I had hired to the orphanage.But in typical Indian fashionit took me somewhereelse.The horseswereabout asbig as iackrabbitsand I pitied them asthey pulled me through the niud of Midnapore at the beginningof the monsoonrairs. I was also burnedup asthe time waspassing,the.sunwasgoingdowndnd I wantedto take picnues beforeit got too dark. The vehicle wanderedround tfuough tlre scatteredIndian villogesof Midnapore,and finally endedup a few blockswhere I had started from, the historic Midnapore Orphanage.The compoundis walled and this grown with bambooand tees. The gatein slight disrepairbearsa sign Midnapur Orphanagg ReverendJ. A. L. Singb Deceased. At last I had arrived. I got out and an English-speaking young man ofthe orphanage,camerunning out and took my canteen,rationsand GI knapsack.I followedhim in and at the door met the dearfine Indian womanwho brought up the wolf, children with such intelligenceand patience,Mrs Singh. We shool handscordialln witl a deepfeelingof emotionon both 284
285
parts I am sure. She invited me into the habitablepart of the largebuilding much of which wasunroofedby a hurricane. . . cf-clon9of rg4z, which had devasteda large part ofrunl lthe Bengaland was particulady severein the so,rih of tfr. Uianaporedistricq contributing to the causeof a terrible famine the following year.] As I went in my eye was stuck by the scencof Rwerend Singh,sreclining chair in a placewherehe a9sit, recliningevenduring his last illness.This reclining Td chair, kept fresh and with its overings frequently taundered wasroped off so no uninitiated personwould sit in it. It was ooveredwith fresh flowers, and has been since his death"an offeringofhis gratefirlwidow and the orphans,severalofwhom are still living there. Relelend Singh's studg his pictures,his writing paperserc are all there. ft is a room reseryedfo his memory,ana useAUy the group only for the family altar, wherepr"y# are madein Episcopalianfashion. Mrs Singh and the children, most of whom are now well grown, and one of whom is married and has a child, live in other parrsof the large house... They get alongwith the salaryofan educateddaughter,who is a rnedicalemployeein Calcutta,the royaltiesof the wolf-children boo\ thel garden etc. They used to have cows and sell milk but have none now... had brought along K ratioru, which they warmedfor me _I rtr"t had preparedmy bath. That nighi they brought an 1ftgl Indian bed into the roorn of ReverendSingh and $rung up my GI mosquitonet. I slept beauffilly in that placeand room . . . almostin the presenceof our colleague,the ReverendSing\ in his study, surrounded by his things and in front of his flower-bedeckedchair which has not been moved since his death. - In the morning I ate a BreakfastK ration with tea prepar,ed fg them. Mrs Srngh is not well and is sufferingfrom T" !y elephantiasisin one leg which handicapsher walking, yet she vraseverywherein a slow and quiet way. She is a dear,sweet person.She speaksEnglish very well: but most of the talking was done by ReverendSingh's ancientelder sister, a retired school teacher.She is a bit on the shrewd side, and not al_ together ftthfid. Thank heavenfor my own consciencethat
Shecouldnot havebeen Mrs Singh... wasthe opposite. afterall theletterswehaveexchanged.ll otherwise They talkedmostlyaboutmoney,the royaltychequesfrom Americathat neverarrived,the Church'sshamefulfailure to pay Mrs Singh a widow's pensionand the orphanage debt which still stood at rooo rupeesand which they despairedof ever paylng of. Dr Zingg pve them some moneyhe hadbroughtwith him and promisedto do what he couldto helpthemon his returnto Calcutta.If hewasa little takenabackby their avidity, he hadnot beenin India long enoughto understandthat launderedclothes,genteel ways and gracioushospitality could concealstarvation of,Howrah. After breakmoreeffectivelythan the bustees fast he took photographsofthe orphanageand its inhabitantsandexaminedvariousplacesfrequentedby the wolf from the sameanglesthe settings children,'photographing of ReverendSingh'sfamouspictures. Politelyignoringhersister-in-ladsattemptsto dominate he plied Mrs Singhwith questionsabout the conversation, Kamalaand Amala"welcomingher offer to look out the of the original photographsas well as someof neg:atives the clothesand toys usedby the elder girl, but therewas little enoughtime beforehis train backto C-alcutaandthe searchfor memorabiliahad to be postponeduntil a later by the entire visit. On his wayto the station,accompanied pilgrirnage to special nnde a Dr Zngg household, Singh St John'scemetery. In the churchyard, I stood beside the Reverend Singh's grave and took photographs. It is as yet unmarked. Then I had them show me the grave of Kamala, the elder wolf child. Before I leave India, ifI live (which I have every hope ofdoing) I am going to have these graves marked with suitable markers, that future visitors to Midnapore may find the graves of Reverend Singh (and in the not too distaflt future, alas, that of Mrs Singh) as well as that of Kamala. Even now ilIrs Singh has forgotten iust where Amala was buried.
286
You can imagineI wasdeeplymovedto standin tlee spots and to photographthem. From the church they took me to the train which started there at Midnapore and thus left on time. It was quite an entouragethat took me to the station.Already it wasso warm that I put on the fan in the Firct Classwaiting room and sat under it until the train came. I was travelling first classon reverselease-lend,theoreticallyon a Red Goss publicity trip. The little branch train sarted and I wavedgoodbyeto lvlrs Singh and the children; we passedthe Maharajah'spalaceand a big U.S. Air Corpsflying field and I wassoontransferringto the main line . . . f wasbackin Calcutta by noon, only twentyfour hoursfor the entire trip. And wasn'tthat an exuaordinary way to spenda day for me?u
287
It is uncertain whether Dr Zngg ever got the chance to return to Midnapore after ioining his unit in fusam. He was, however, as good as his word about helping Mrs Singh. During the few days that he remained in C.a,lcutta he visited Bishop's House to plead her case with the Metropolitan. Bishop Westcott was away at the time - his residence had been turned into a club for British servicemen - but his chaplain promised that llrs Singh's pension claim would be looked into, though evidendy Dr Zing{s interference was not altogether welcome. Subsequent investigation revealed litde more than the unhappy plight of the Midnapore Church, which as the Reverend Singh predicted, had fallen on increasingly difficult times since the withdrawal of European officials from the district and the democratic handing over ofStJohn's to the care ofthe parish. After the padre's death his iob had been taken on by Lionel Hewitt, the Anglo-Indian missionary, once so keen to evangelizethe heathen,but who had long since lost his missionary zeal.As vicar he had fared no better than his predecessorat the hands of the troublesome Midnapore Church Committee. Accused of everything from pasturing his cows in the cemetery to stealing the communion wine, he had allowed himselfto be drawn into the peny squabbles
j
and intriguesof parish politia, with the result that his, standingand authority as a priest ryeregraduallyundermined.A frail andneuroticrnan,he hadbeenreducedto a state of chronic hysteria,which the inquiry into Nlrs Singh'spensiondid nothingto alleviate. Hewitt claimedthat he wasso fiercd resentedby Mrs Singhand her husband'ssister,that they refused€vento cometo Church on Sundays,but insteadwould gather with the orpharsin the cemeteryand deliberatelydisrupt his servicesby singinghymnsover the ReverendSingh's grave. Miss Singh, particularly antagonistictowards Hewitg accusedhim of keepingilfrs Singh'spensionfor himself;in his turn Hewitt calledher a liar anddeniedthat a pensionhadeverbeenallocated.The Bishopintervened with the zuggestionthat Mrs Slngh should sell 'Tho Home'and go to live with her sonDanielin Kharagpur. This shestubbornlyrefusedto do. The situationappeared to be deadlocked until at lenethit wasdecidedthat. since no onecouldforceher to moie, Mrs Singhwould traveto stey on in Midnapore.But whethershe ever receiveda pensionDr Zngg wasunableto discover.A sadandarbitrary outcomeof the wholeaffair nas that the orphanage wasat lastdeclaredofficiallyclosed,an eventwhich Zingg reportedbackto Dr Gesellat Yalewith solemnregret. Although he failed to produceresults for Mrs Singh over her pension,Dr Zngg zucceeded at leastin clearing up the problemofher royaltycheques,eveniftheseturned out to be fewerandsmallerthantheyhad both hoped.tle did his best to help in other ways: sendingher food parcelsfrom Assam(for he knew-nowthe realcauseof hsr ill-health),his own ration of orangeiuice eachmonth,and at Cluistmaspresentsfor the children; he eventried to find a job with the RedCrossfor oneof her orphans.At dre sametime he beganto raisemoneyto put up gravestones for Kamalaand the ReverendSingh- a proiectDr Gesell provedmoretlan willing to contributetowards,thoughhe vetoedthe rather curioussuggestionthat his owr nafirc 288
289
with Zmgg's should appear on the markers. Zingg {o1S had also had the idea that the markers should be of the s:rme rype and no less imposing than those erected in memory of the assassinatedBritish magistrates, peddie, Burge and Douglas, 'the.Midnapore Martyrs', with yhom he knew the padrg though perhaps not Kamala, to have been in closesympathy. But it was not an easyoperation to organize by letter from Assam and eventuallv he decided to abandon it until after the war. He had difficulty, too, in carrying out his privaG research pr,ogramme. Not only were his movements severely restricted, but inquiries were hampered by Indian resistance, particularly among the educated and political classes,to the very idea of wolf children, which nury resent€das a reflection on the backwardnessoftheir country. Dr Zingg tried to reassure them that even America had its feral problem, and was delighted to quote the recent caseof a dog-girl found living in the middle of New York City; but somehowhe was unable to convince them. After an unsuccessful attempt at tracing Rose and Richards, he paid a visit to the offices of the Statesmanin Calcutta" in the hope of finding out the name of the reporter who had given the alternative version of the rescue story, but again with little success.He managed only to track down a Canadian journalist who had worked for the paper at the time ofthe discovery and who offered a bland endorsement of his own views. ,Reverend Singh's word may be acceptedwithout hesitation. What I knew of his reputation when I w,ts out in Calcuta precludes any possibility of doubt where his testimony is concerned.'l3It was encouraging, but it hardly constituted evidence.With any luck, Zingg believed, there would be time at the end of the war for a more thorough investigation. In April 1945,however,Mrs Singh receiveda letter from Dr Zingg,postmarked Bombay, informing her that he had fallen ill and wasbeingshippedbackto the U.S. forthwith. Whether or not this was the real reason for his leaving
Assamso zuddenly- a story persiststhat his sudden departurehad more to do with a potential diplomatic incidentinvolvingthe wife of a British admiral- Dr Zingg camehomewithout havingbeenableto takefull advantage whichhadbroughthim to India. Had he ofthe coincidence been allowed to stay out longer, his researcheswould doubtlesshaveled him into the iunglesof Mayurbhani, wherehe felt cerain he would havefound the necessary evidenceto confound Kamala and Amala's critics and salvagehisownacademiccareer.But it wasnot to be. of iobsthat had He returnedin Americato a succession little to do with eitherwolf childrenor anthropology.After workingfor sometime in the educationdepartmentof the Britannica,he indulged a lifelong love of Encycloped.ia trains by becominga lzlilwayconductorwith the Pullman Company.A romanticat heart, he was to end his days moreprosaicallysellingcannedmeatin El Paso.However, Dr Zinggneverquitelost his fascinationfor his old subiect andcontinuedto keepin touchwith Mrs Singh,if only out of charity,aslong assheremainedalive.In answerto her increasinglypathetic beggingJetters,which alwayscorr. ained o hopeful referenceto her husbandand Kamala's gravestones, he sent her what moneyhe could, until in Decemberr95o he heardfrom the ReverendHewitt ttrat shehad died the previousOctoberof starvation.India, by then, had beenindependentfor morethan two yearsand Mrs Singh,nevermuchinterestedin politics, wassaidto havebeengladonly that her husbandhad not lived to see the day. Shewasburied besidethe ReverendSinghin St John'scemetery;whereto this day,their graves,andthose of KamalaandAmala,remainunmarked.
Epilogue
Like anyjourneyinto the unknown,my questfor the wolf childrenwasundertakenin a spirit of anxiousdetermination. Misgivingsaboutthe wisdomof chasingwhat might turn out to be unknowablechimeraacrosstwo very substantialcontinentswerefirmly suppressed in favourof the brighterprospectof ariving at my destination.I travelled with a compulsivelysimpleand definitepurpose:to find out whetherthe ReverendSingh's diary accountof discoveringKamalaandArnalaliving with wolvesintheiungle wastfue. Although I understoodwell enoughthat if the capture of the two girls from the whiteant moundcouldbeverified by independentwitnesseswhosestatementscorroborated Singh's,this in itself would not constitutescientificproof that theyhadbeensuclledor rearedby wolves,I felt that it would go a long way towardsconvincingme that this is what actually happened.Equally if I could show that Singh'sstorywasuntrue,that KamalaandAmalawerenot in fact wolf children,althoughthis wouldnot provethat a wolf had neoersucHed, or reareda humanchild, I would regardit ashighly probablethat animalnursesbelongedto the realmsof myth and folklore. The child psychologist, BrunoBettelheim,whohasarguedpersuasively againstthe existenceofwolfchildren, suggeststhat the strengthand persistenceof the feral myth dependson an archetypal longing to revive the lost connectionwith our animal ancestors,or if one prefers, with the rest of creation, reflecting a widespreaddesire 'to believein a benign naturethat in somefashionlooksafter all of its children'.
: But his main concern is with the use of this particultr myth to cover the behaviour of children, who would otherwise have to be recognized as feeble-minded or autistic. Unafraid to declarehis interest in forcing the world to face up to the problem of infantile autism, Dr Bettelheim reiects the feral idea as an adult invention to explain why sudr children exist. His belief that Kamala and Amala were autistic is based on similarities he observed in the behaviour of American autistic children in his care and the Reverend Singh's descriptions of the wolf children. The diagnosis, based on available evidence, supposesthat the Reverend Singh invented whatever connection the children may have had with wolves and consequently disregards his wolf-flavoured specifications. It would not be impertinent to suggestthat Dr Bettelheim might otherwise have been at a loss to explain away tleir more distinctly feral symptoms. Beyond the inherent interest and appealof the motif, the raising of a human child by a wolf is not in itself of much scientific significance, but the obsenrable behaviour and personality ofa child captured from wolves undoubtedly is, and under ideal conditions would no doubt reveal much about tlre formation and development of personality, the origins oflanguage, the interrelation ofculture and biology and a host of other imponderables. Even under less thsn ideal conditions, it seems,untrained, incomplete and unauthenticated observation of feral children can also provide insight into these problems, especially for those more pliable branches of science tlrat zupport and are indeed dependent on the theory that man is the product of society, formed by the conditioning of his surroundings and his circumstances;though, as Dr Gesell and others havedemonstrated,the wolfchildren could alsobe usedto goodeffectin support ofthe opposingpoint ofview. From the start of my investigations I had neither particular interest nor qualification to join in the nurture-nature debate; nor have I felt tempted or better able to do so at
292
43
any time sincel but in concentrating -y efforts on rnore immediate, less tendentious areasof research,by attempc ing simply to establish the authenticity of Singh's story and place it within its correct historical contexg I have been nonethelesscommitted to the truth. The character and motivation of the Reverend Singh are of central interest and importance in any attempt at appraising the phenomenon of the wolf children. Clearly if Singh lied about the capture ofthe children from wolveg it must affect the validity of his account of their lives at the orphanage, which would not only remove the basis for a scientific assessmentof Kamala and Amala's behaviour and personality in terms of environmental and other influences,but changeradically my own lay account of their story. Elsewhere I gave my reasonsfor telling this story in narrativeform rather than presentingit asa report ofa long and complex investigation. I felt that the obligation to list and evaluateeachpieceofevidencebeforethe reader'seyes would make dull and laborious reading, which could hardly be justified by the conclusionsthat might be drawn from it. fu a result I have omitted so far to give my reasons for accepting the Reverend Singh's story more or less as fact. A brief summary of the last stagesof my researchesin India would seemnow to be appropriate. Before leaving England I discovered two pioces of evidence which changed the direction of my research and inclined me to believe that the Singh diary was at least partly a work of the imagination. In the London archives of the Church Missionary Society-I Gtmeacrossthat brief mention of the wolf children in the Calcutta Diocesan Recard,where Singh, in a report to his mission superiors, had statedthat the two girls had beencaptured from wolves in the iungle by villagers and subsequendyhanded over to him. In other words he had not rescued them himself or seenthem cohabiting with wolves as stated in the diary. In due course I found a second and longer account in an open letter from Father Brown of the Oxford Mission,
publishedinJu ly rgzz, onthechildren'spageofthe Missiorr magazine, which again attributed the rescue to the vil. lagers. As his former tutor, Father Brown, it seems,had received the information directly from Singh himself. Somewhatreluctantly then I had to come to terms with the idea that Singh was a liar. His motive seemedclear enough and understandable: he wanted to make his story more dramatic and present himself in a starring role; but it meant that the diary was now of little value, for if Singh had invented the rescue story, why not the rest of hls account ? In India I hoped to find more evidenceto expose the truth. Although I had not altogether dismissed the possibility that the children had indeed been rescued by the villagers from wolves, or renounced my intention of following up that side of things, my chief interestnowlayin the Reverend Singh's story, in discovering how he had 'created'the wolfchildren - their existenceat the orphanage had never been in doubt - and succeededalmost in getting away with the world's best feral hoax. I arrived in Calcutta at the end of February 1975to find myself in unexpectedly familiar surroundings, the city in its crumbling magnificencebeing a sort of tropical parody of London. I set up base there in a boarding house on RussellStreetthat had changedlitde sincethe daysofthe Raj. After making contact with the university, where I was given every help by the department ofanthropology, I discovered that the wolf children of Midnapore had been investigated as recendy as rg12 by the American sociola. gist, William Ogburn, and a well-known Indian anthropologist, Nirmal K. Bose. Both men had since died, but not before producing a paper on the subject for a scientffic iournal. After reading their sixty-page report, On the trail ofthe wolf childrez, I felt singularly disheatened. Although the article provided some useful information, a list of names and a few promising leads, the verdict on the wolf children reached by Ogburn and Bose was both in-
294
295
conclusive and at the same time weighted heavily against the Reverend Singh. The investigators appeared to have covered the ground thoroughly and more or less exactly as I was proposing to do nearly twenty-five years later. They had concentrated on trying to find: (a) Godamuri, the village in the jungle near where Singh claimed to have recovered the children (b) witnessesto tle capture ofthe children from the wolves and (c) wirnessesin Midnapore and elsewhere,who saw the children at the orphanageafter their captureand could saysomethingabouttheir behaviour. Rather depressingly, Obgurn and Bose had completely failed to locate the village or any witness to the rescue of, the children from wolves. They had come up with some wild and conflicting storiesand tracked down a number of people who claimed to have seen the wolf children at the orphanage, but among these - apart from the close members of Reverend Singh's family, whose testimony was assumedto be biasedand thereforeinadmissible- not one had actually observed Kamala and Amala go on all fours, eat raw meat, howl or behavein any of tle wolf-like ways describedin the diary. In conclusion the investigators could do no more than confirm that the two girls had indeed lived for a time at the orphanage and that they had been unusual children in that they spoke very little and did not Iike to mix with other children. As regards the wolfchildren story, they could not disprove it, but suggested that Singh had probably exploited a popular myth to make money for his orphanage. If I had known about Ogburn and Bose at an earlier stage in my investigation, no doubt I would have abandoned the project before coming to India, but somehow, fortuitously perhaps, I had managedto overlook the reference. Now I had no alternative but to carry on the search for the wolf children where they had left off. Although a quarter ofa century had elapsed since Ogburn and Bose were in the field, I felt that I had certain advantagesover
l
them: specifically, in having accessto theZinggcollectio4 of correspondencein America and generally, in my unspecialized, non-scientific approach to research, which allowed me to consider the motivation of the Reverend Singh and the background to the story asimportant factora in any attempt at establishing what happened. Singh's character was by now beginning to intrigue me and the accumulated evidence (after numberless days under slow wheeling fans in the dusty Calcutta libraries) still sugigested to me that despite all the contradictions and exagr gerationsthere remained a substgatumof truth to the wolfchildren story. Circumstances were, nonetheless,ridiculously unfavourable and I remember thinking as much as I sat marooned on a rickshaw in the middle of Midnapore, newly arrived, stupid with sunstroke and dysentery, assaultedby the stenchofopen drains,incenseand buffalo dung, by the din ofscooter horns and processionaldrums, by flies, beggarsand a mad-looking dog, trying to explain to an astonishedcrowd with three words of Bengali that I had come from England to find out about the Reverend Singh and two wolf girls, who once lived in this delightful town. I persuaded myself that things could only get better. With the enthusiastichelp of Mr Haripada Mondhal, tlte Headmaster of the C,ollegiate School, who acted as my instructor, interpreter and a poetic guide through the confusions of Midnapore's bazatrs, quoting Dryden, Shelley and Longfellow at €very opportunity, I set about tracking down anyone who had known Reverend Singh or seenthe wolf children at the orphanageduring the r9zc. In all we interviewed more than forty elderly people from every sort of backgroundof whom just under two-thirdf claimedto haveseenthe wolf children. Becauseof a recognized tendency. among Indians to confuse assumptions with evidence, to tell you what they imagine you want to hear rather than what they know, we were scrupulously careful in vetting witnesses,in cross-questioningthem and
zS
297
in checking their statementsby every possible meang but to my initial surprise they all confirmed with allowable variations that Kamala and Amalr had behwed in the wolf-like ways describedby Singh in his diary and some were able to provide additional information besides. Not one witness,even those.whohad shown some disapproval or hostility towards Singh, would agree that the wolf children might have been fakes or, as far as they were able to tell, mental defectives. During the courseof these inquiries I found very little trace of Ogburn and Bose'searlier investigation.Nobody much seemedto remember them in Midnapore and the few who had beeninterviewedby them were now telling a different story. Other anomalies increased my suspicions and on returning to Calcutta I determinedto find out more about the circumstances of their research progranme through the Universiry. Dr Jyotimoya Sarma, a lady sociologist,who had previously studied under Professor Ogburn in Chicago,told me that he had come to India in r95r to work on an important projecq but becauseof his interestin the wolf children sincethe publication of Zingg's boo\ had askedher ifshe would help him to look into the story. She had agreed,only to discover that he was unable to give the matter as much time as he had hoped. Professor Ogburn was by then an old man and fognd the strain of |ourneying to Midnapore in the hot weather, running around and conducting interviews in difficult conditions too much for him. He was disappointed not to be able to clear up the mystery right away. 'He wanted so much to believein thesewolf children,'Dr Sarmarecalled,'he was really a statistician and the slightest discrepancy in evidencesent him inio the deepestgloom.When he could not find positive truth in the story, he was very got down.' fn Calcutta, Ogburn found it very difficult to get the scientific community to take the wolf children seriously,but just before returning to America he successfullypersuaded Nirmal K. Boseto take over his research.'ProfessorBose
at that time was very well known in India and worshipped by many as a former close associate of Gandhi and a freedom fighter against the British. He was not particularly interested in the wolf children, but he knew Midnapore district well and, becausehe was such a big name, liked to put his stamp on everything - without always doing much himself.'l Dr Sarma doubted that Bosehad carried out a thorough investigationof the caseand sug' gestedthat after Ogburn left the work was mostly done by studentsand later written up by the authors. I could not help making the observationthat ProfessorBose'sformer politicat associationalso might have affected his attitude towardsSingh. Although I wasassuredthat it had existed,I neverfound Singh's original diary of the wolf children. One of his daughters, Preeti Lota, who was still living in Ranchi, showed me a portion of manuscript - the rest had been devoured by white ants - which contained a good deal of information not included in the published version.Besidesthis shelet me seelettersand photo' graphs, some of considerableinterest, and along with her sister-in-law, Daniel's wife, who lives in Kharagpur, provided most of the detailed information on Singh's life. But the essential part of my research was yet to come. With maps, provisions, mosquito nets, interpreters, police escortand a ieep - the latter kindly provided by the Government of Bengal - I set of into the iungle areasto look for the lost village of Godamuri. I had in my pocketa letter from Reverend Singh to Bishop Pakenham-Walsh (part ofthe Zingg collection discoveredin the attic ofthe Gesell Institute in New Haven), which gave directions, including a rough sketch-map, on how to get there. These were too vague to be ofmuch use and after severaldays of discouraging search,during which we encounteredno one who had even heard of such a thing as wolf children -
z.g8
ry
though wolves, I had taten care to find out, had once been quite commonin the area- a pieceof luckfinallycameour way. We were spending the night at the police station in Nayagaram, discussing whether or not to abandon the search,when a messagecame through that a friend of the interpreter's from the last village we visited had some important information for us. He was already on his way, bicycling through the jungle - his village was twenty-six miles away - and would be with us by morning. That night I hardly slept in anticipation, not least becausea snakehad beendiscoveredwrappedround the handlebarsofa bicycle on the police station veranda a few feet from where I lay. The messengerarrived in the early hours, but his news, once the excitementover his dramatic night ride had died down, was a little disappointing.A village elder, who had been frightened to come forward at the time of our visit becauseof the police escort,rememberedhearingthe story of the wolf children when he was a young man but could not rememberwhereit had happened.He had neverheard of Godamuri and could only suggestthe namesof a number of villages firrther south into Orissa, where they might know more. There was not much to go on, but it was our only lead. Acting on the old man's advice and with the trail getting warmer as we moved on from village to village, we eventually succeededin finding Godamuri, which had changed its name - as Indian villages sometimes do - to Ghorabandha.Unfortunately, there was no one in the village old enough to remember the incident of the wolf children. However, the inhabitants confirmed that Chunarem,who ' first told Singh about the ghosts' in the forest,had indeed 'mad' a few years back. From lived there, but died Ghorabandha we then drove south-east for six or seven miles (in accordance with Singh's sketch map) to the Santal village of Denganalia,where the older people well remembered how the wolf children were captured in the forestnearbya longtime ago.Oneold manrLasaMarandin
i had actually taken part in the hunt as a boy ofsixteen and testified that the Reverend Singh, whom he was able to describe quite clearlS along with two Europears (possibly Rose and Richards) and Dibakar Bhani Deo had been presenton themachanatthe time of the rescue. After we had drunk to the successof our mission in Santal rice beer and decked the ieep out with scarlet palas blossoms, we drove on in triumph to Amarda Road bungalow, where the interpreter, the driver and I spent the night. Later we discovered, as we sat on the veranda in Iong planters'chairs, looking out over the silver waters of the tank to the thin greenline of jungle beyond, waiting for the chowhi.darto bring us morning tea, that it was here, to this samebungalow, that the Reverend Singh had brought the wolf children on the day of their capture, 17 October r9zo. I was never able to resolvesatisfactorily the discrepancy between the statements of the Santals in the jungle, who claimed that Singh was present at the capture of the wolf children, and some of his own and other statementswhich averred that he was not. In this book I have attempted to show what the Reverend Singh's motives might have been for lying about the rescue story. That he did not want his mission superiors to know about his part in the rescue becauseit portrayed him in the role ofthe hunter, was sug. gested to me by a number of people who knew him well. Others said that he gave out several different and deliberately misleading statements to those who went to the orphanageto seeKamala, mostly out of irritation at being bothered by so many visitors and their endless questions. Undoubtedln he was an irascible, affogant and complicated man and his motives are not altogether cleat, probably becausethey were mixed. There may even have been a simple explanationfor his behaviour,which hasnot yet come to light and perhaps never will. But the fact remains that an article in the Midnapore local paper, a
300
30r
mission report written by Singh himself a letter from Father Brown and the story in the Statesrnanall indicate that he did not take part in the rescueashe later claimedin his diary. On the other hand, I have no reasonto disbelieve Lasa Marandi and the Sanals of Denganalia,thechowkidar at Amarda Road bungalow,the son of Dibakar Bhanj Deo, Jageswar Khatua (the son of Bhagobhat), Mr Umakanta Pattanaikand others who said that he did. The Santalsin that areaare known even today for their truthfulness; they appeareduninterested in the information they passedon; there was no question of their having read about the wolf children; and the story \ryasfar from being a widespread folk tale in the jungle areas we visited. Most significantly the villagesnamedor indicatedbySinghastheplaceswhere these events had taken place, not only existed, but were confirmed as such, somewhat reluctandS by their inhabitants. The choice finally Iay not so much in acceptingone set of proofs and rejecting the other, or in evaluating the comparative worth of written and oral evidence, but in weighing the Reverend Singh's capacity for self-deception, measuring his need to feel important againstwhat I believe to be his fundamental integrity. He was a man wholly if unhappily loyal to his Church and to the Britannic ideal, both of which let him down. Like so many educated Indians of his time he had identified too closely with a culture not his own, and with the rebirth of Indian nationalism, betrayed by the Church and the Raj, which were busily discarding past shibbolethsin order to survive, he found himself trapped and isolated. There is a parallel with the more extreme fate of the wolf children, isolated through being forced to obey an alien set of cultural imperatives and then being squeezedback into a mould, the shape of which had been erasedfrom their memory. Both were victims of circumstance,but if the choice in this matter lay also between myth, which is the wishful thinking that remodels the universe to our
dominant desire, and reality, which returns it to the bleak tragedy of existence, I am inclined to believe, and have wriiten this book in the belief, that the Reverend Singh's diary account of what happened in the forest is true, though perhaps not the whole truth.
Glossary
non-violence ahimso Anglo-Ind;ian origrnally the British in India; post-rgoo, specificallythoseof mixed blood (Eurasian) monasteryor religiouscentre ashrarn native clerk who writes English (also dero' babu gatory) Indian fig-tree (Ficasbengalensis, banyan L.) ghost bhut spirit (Sanal) bonga native quarter,slum-dwelling bustee water-bucket chagol initiation ceremony(Sanal) chatiar caretaker,watchman ehopkidor robber, bandit docoit dak-brmgalow governmentstaginghouse steward depan looseloincloth worn by casteHindus dhoti one of z5o units of administrationin British district India District Magistrate,erecutiveheadof districg D.M. alsoknown as Collectoror District Officer court, levee durbar tribal loincloth gamchas drayman,cart-driver garinallah wrapper,cloth gelnp river embankment ghats knotted string usedby Santalsfor pasing giragath information from villageto village store-room,warehouse goilown Indian Gvil Service I.C.S. jheel pond, mere(remnantinundation) homespuncloth khadi 'kharom woodenslippers
hhas kwli hutcho lantana machan maidan nali m&nya nofusnl nond.hal maf,ram nggra naehe wllah paddy poise prpal pukka ?ajo punlah
Rai rasgalla rupee sahib
sais sakwa sardar wtygraha shikar solatopi Swaraj tank toln-t1tn zamindar
long grass primitive spade crude,rough, raw densetropical shrub(l,antanaInd,ico Roxb.) shootingplatform common,public land gardener prayer,incantation tle countryside,ruml part of district headman(Santal) laterite,red residualsoil in humid tropical regioru type of drum (Santal) priest (Santal) watefcourse rice, rice field small coin poplar-leavedfi g+ree (Ficusreligiosa,L.) proper, substantial Hindu prayer or act of worship fan suspendedfrom ceiling (kingdom),British Rule in India from r85&1947 sweeqmilk-basedconfection standardIndian coinage,worth roughly rs 6d. 'Lord', term ofaddressfor all Europeans in India; alsoattachedto office(i.e. padre sahib,or Colonel-sahib) gfoom hunting horn (Santal) landowner Gvil Disobedience sport (shooting,hunting) pith helmet Home Rule reservoir,artificial pond or lale dog-cart landowner
SelectBibliography
HistoricalIndio AUen" C. Bose,N. IL Bose,N, S. Bose, S. C. Brown, H. Buckland, G T. Carthill, A. Chaudhuri, Nirad C. Das, N. N. Das, N. N. Dunbar, Sir G. Gandhi, M.Ii Gordon, L. A. Grifrths, SirP. Hornimarq B. G. Keay, J. Kipling, R. Koestler, A.
Plain Talesfrom the Raj, London, r975 My Days with Gand.hi,C*lcorrt" r953 The Ind.ianAwakeningand Bengol, C,alcatta,ry6o The Indian Strugglz rgzo-J4, London, 1935 TheSahibs,London,1948 Sketchesof Social Life in Indiat London, 1884 Madampur,Edinburgh, r93r The Continent of Circe, London,
ry6s History of Midnapwe, vols r-3, Midnapore,1956 Midnaporc ryo7-rg, Midnaporg r956 A Hhtory of Indio, ool. z,Landut, r9+3 MX Erperiments pith Truth, London,1949 Bengal: TheNationalist Moo€ment t 87Gr g4o,New York, 1974 ModernIndia, London, rg57 Amtitsar and Our Duty to India, London,rgzo Into India, London" 1973 Many Inaentiazs,London" r9z5 'Mahatma Gandhi Yogi and Commissart, Sunday Timcs, 5 October1969
Macleod, R. D.
WinsloqJ. C. and Elwin, V. Woodruff, P. Woodruff, P.
Imprusions of an Indian Cioil Seroant,London, 1938 Cakutta, Londoq r97r Witnessto an Era, London, rg73 Area ofDarkness,London, 1964 Bmgal, Bihar and.Orissa,Sikkim, Cambridge,r9r7 (Bengal Dhtrht Midnalore Gazeteers), Calcuta, r gr r Years of Change in Bengal ond lssam,London;1966 Histwy enil ContempororyInilia, London,r97r TheDapn of Indian Freedom, London, r93z TheFounilers,London, r95z TheGuardians,Londoq 1954
Tribal India Archer, W. G. Archer, W. G.
TheHill of Flutes,London, rg74 'The Illegitimate Child in Santal
Moorhouse,G. Moraeq F. Naipaul, V. S. O'Malley L. S. S. O'Malley, L. S. S. Reid, Sir R. N. Webster, J. C. B.
Bhowmick, P. K. Bodding, P. O. Bompas, C. H.
Bornpas, C. H. Campbelt {. Das, A. K.
Das, T. C.
Society', Man in Inilia, September r944 The Lodhas of ltest Bngal, Calcutta,1963 Santal F olktales, Oslo, r9z5-9 Folktahs of Bengal, tournal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal, Vol. z5 Folklme of the Sontol Parganas, London,rgog Santal Folk Talcs,London, rSgz 'The Koras and somelittle known communitiesof W .Bengal', Bulletin of Cuhural ResearchInstitute Special Series, no. 5, Calcutta, 1964 'Primitive culture on the borders of Bengal',CakauaReoiew,vol. r39, pP.35-,+o
3c,6
Datta-Majundar, N. Blwin, V. Dlwin, V. FiihrerHeimendorf, C. Haldar, S.
Kochar, V. Mohapatra, K.
Molony, A. C. B. Mukherjea, C. Muthiya P.IC Mukhopadhyay, A.
Neogi,D. N.
Orans, M. Raha, M. K.
Saha, N. K. Sen,R. S. D.
TheSantal, C,alcutta,1956 Myths of Mid.dleIndia,NewYort" r949 Tribal MXthsof Orissa,New York, 1953 An Anthropological Bibliography of SouthAsia 'Ho Folklore' (Aflimal Nurses), Journalof Bihor anil OrissaResearch Society- vol. r, pp. 25513; vol. z, pp. 2831o3; vol. 4, pp. 32243 Social Organization ernong t1r4 Santal, Calcutta,r97o 'Christianity in a Tribal Village', Anthropology on the March, L. K. Bala Ratnam (ed.), Madras,
ry63 Sontals ix Bngal, S.P.G. World Wide Series,no.7 TheSantals,Calcutta,r96a 'The Primitive Peopleof Orissa'. Yanyajati,vol.8, 196o 'Infanticide in Bengaland its Suppression', Bengol Past anitr Present,vol.?5, 1956 Tahs Sacred and Secular (Child Erpuwe in Bengof Calcutt4 t9r2, TheSantal, Detroit, 1965 'The Forestin TibalLife' Bulletin , of Caltural Researchfnstitate, vol. 2, no. r, Calcutta, 1963 'Tfre Santal'sSupernaturalWorld'; tr/anyajati,vol. r8, no. 4 Folk Literatureof Bngal, Calcutta, t92O
Iilest Bengal, Government of
3e7
Handboohon Scheduled Castcsand ScheduledTribes in lfiest Bcngal, Calottt4 1966
ll/aloesanil Wd-Life Ale:rander, R. D. T. and Martin-Leakg A. Ball, V. Beddard, F. E. Behura, B. IC
Sow SignPststo Shikar, C,alcutt4 1932 JungleLife in Ind,ia,Londoq r88o Manmaliarlondon, rgoz 'studies on wild mammals of Orissa', Proceeilingsof the 46th P* 3' Irulian Scimtifu Congless, t959 FmestLife in India,London' 1935 Best"J. W. 'The Indian Wolf', Mammalia of BLanford BritishIndio,pp. r35J ' Conislapas Blyth PalliPes',Joumalof the Asiatic Societyof Bengat vol. 16 p. 345,C,alcutta, 1845 Sgrt and Wildffi ia the Deccan, Burton" R. G. London, rgz8 TIE taryglein Sanlightanil'Shadow' Champion, F. W. London,1933 Spmt in theel and'lungle, Calcutt4 Chaudhuri, K. N. r9r8 Araic Wild, New York, 1958 Crisler, L. Eardley-Wilmot, Sir S. Forut Life and SPmt in Ind.ia, London, rgro Eardley-Wilmoq Sir S. Itaoesfr otnIndian Forests,London r930 The Order of Woloes, London, Fienneg R. r976 Behatiow of Woloeg Dogs antl Fox, M. W. RelatedCanids,Londoq rgTr Glasfurd, Col. A. L R, Masingsof an Ohl Shikari,Londoq r9z8 Hewett, Sir J. lanele Trails in North Inilia, London, 1938 The Mammals of India, London, C. Jerdon,J. r874 Man neetsDog,Londoq 1955 Lorenz,l(- Z. TIU Wolf,NewYork,r97o Mec\ L. D. Sport and Adaentwein tleeIndian I{erqm-Smith, A. Jungle,Lon&n, rgo4
308
Mowag F. Prater, S. H.
Puri, G. S. Rao, V. S.
St Quentin, T. Savory, I. Stewart,Col.A.E. Stockley, C. [I. Stockley, C. H. Strach4n, A. W. Sykes
Wood" H. S. Young, S. P. and Goldman, E. A.
Nczxr Crt l{olf, New Yor\ ,963 Tlu Bookof IndianAnimols,Bow bay Natural History Society, ,965 Indian FarestEcology,New Delhi, r96o 'Status of Wildlife in the S.W. Dishicts of Bengal', journal of the Bcngal Notaral Hhtory Sociay, 1958, vol. 3c., p. t32 Chancesof Spmt of So1ts,Londoq r)rSportsroman in India,London, orO Other Game,London, ffi rgzS Shikarrlondon,r9z8 Big Game Shootingin the Indian Emlire, London, r9z8 Maukd by a Tiger, Edinburgh & London, 1933 'Canis lapus pallipes', Proceedittgs of thc ZoologicalSociety,Londoq r83r ShikarMenories,L6ndon,rg34 The Woloes of North Amaica, Washington,1944
Ferol Man Allen, A. and Mortonr.L Altrocchi, R.
Thisis YourChihl,London, l96r
Armen" J.-C Bettelheim, B.
Slcuthingin tlc Stacks,Cambridgg Mass, 1944 Gazolle-Bon,London, 1974 The Empty Fwtress, New Yor\
, Chapple, E. P. and Coon, C S.
Principles of Anthropology,New Yark, ry42
ry67 3o9
Dennis, W.
Dunn, C. W. Eckels, R. P. Eisler,R.0. Dvans, B. Dvans, B. Feuerbach, P. J. A. Friedrid H. Gese[ A. Gesell,A.
Hutton, J. H. Kellog, W. N.
Kellog,lV. N.
Kellog, W. N. and L.A. IGpling, R. Klineberg, D. Kroeber, T. Lane, H. tevi-Strauss, C. McCartney, E. S.
'The Significanceof Feral Man', Amaican Journol of Psychohglto No. 54, r94r The Foundlingand the lhrewolf, Toronto, 196o Gr eek Wolf- L ore,Phtladelphia,r q7 Man into WolfrLondon, ry5r Nataral Hi*ory of Nonsenw,New York, 196r 'Wol{ Wolf?', Nen RePablic, z6May ry4o Casper Haaser, H. G. Linberg (trs.),London,1834 Man and.Animal,London, rgTt Wolf-Child,anil HumanChihl, New York, tg4t 'The Biographyof a Wolf-Child', Ha4vr's Magazine, January, 194r 'Wolf-Children', vol. t, Folk-Iare, pp.9-3r, I94o 'More about the wolf-children of Indit', AnericanJournal of Psychologyrno.43,r93r 'A further note on the Wolfchildren of fndia', Anerican Journal of Psychology,no. 46, 1934 The Ape and.the Cldl/, New Yor\ r933 All the Mowgli Stuies, London, r933 SocialPsychology, New York, 1954 Ishi, Berkeley,tg6r The llild Boy of Aoeyron,Harvard, ry76 Les StructaresEtenentairesdc la ParentdrParis, 1949 'Greek and RomanLore of,Animal Nursed Infants', Pap*s of tlu
3ro
Malson, L. Mandelbaum, D. G.
Mead, M.
Ogburn, W. F.
Ogburn, W. F. and Bose,N. K. Prasad, K.
Rousseau,J.-J. Sandstrom, C. L Singh,J. A. L. and Zingg, R. M. Sleemaq Col. W. H.
Squires, P. C.
Stuart-Bater, E. C.
Summers, M. Thompson, S. 3II
Young Ii
MichiganAcatleqt of Scicnce,Arx and Letters, vol. 4 part \ rg24, pp.15-42 Les EnfantsSawsages,Pais, r 964 'Wolf Child Histories from India', toarnol of Social Psychology, rg4r ' Wolf.children', P arents'Magazinc, December tg4rl Natural History, tg4tl Science Neos Intter, zz March r94r andz6 Aplil ry4r 'The Wolf Boy of Agra', American Journal of Sociology,no.64, rg5g, pp.M9-54 'On the trail of the wolf-children', GeneticPsychology Monogral,hs, \o. 6o,1959,pp.tr7-g3 'Ramu: The "WollBoy" ofl.ucknow', Illastrated LondonNews,z7 Februaryrg54 Discourssur l'origine d.el'in,igalitd parmi leshonmesr?aris,ry62 The Psychologyof Childhoodand Adolescence, London, 1966 Wolf-Children and, Feral Man, New York, r94z An Account of llloloes Nunring Childtm in their Dezs, Plymouttr, r85z 'Wolf-children of India', Amuhan Journal of Ps1chology,no. 38, t927 'The Power of Scent in Wild Animals', tournal of the Bombay Natural llistory Society, no. 27, t92o The Wereno(|,London, 1933 Motif-Inder of Folk-Litaatwc, Helsinki,r93z Sociology,New York, r94z
Zingg, R. M.
Zingg, R.I\rL
'Feral Man and Extreme Casesdf Isolation', Ameriran lournal of no. 53, r94o Psychology, 'India's Wolf-Children: Two HrF man Infants Reared by Wolvesf, ScicntificAnerican, March r94r
Reportsof tln VTolfChildrenof Midnapue Newspaper rg2r z4Actobe4 Med,iniparHitaishi rg2r December,CalcuttaDiocesanRecorilrvol.ro' no. 9 rgzz July, Orford,M*sion QuorterlyPaper vol. rz, no. ro rg23 October,CalcuttoDiocesonRecoril, Gazctte z6 October, Westminster 22,2J,25 and ry26 1926 22 and z3 October,Nep Yuk Times 19z6 r November,Zrze 19z6 13and 16November,theStotevnan(Calcutta) ry26 16 November,Forwaril ry26 z6Decembe4New York Tincs tg27 3oJaauary,NewYorkTimcs rgzT January,OxfordMissionQrarterlr Poper tg27 6 April, Nep York"Timzs rg27 7-zz Aprfl, TheTimcs(London)- Correspondence rg27 zMay, New York Tincs tg37 z8 November,5 and,rz December,Illustrated Weeklyo1 Ind.ia rg4r 3Marct4Time
Notes
T'he two most important unpublished sourceson t}e wolf children of Midnapore are the Amold Gesell papers in the Manuscript Division of the Library of Congress,Washingtoq D.C and the Zngg Collection" which is at present in tlrc Leepingof the GesellInstitute of Child Developmentin New Haven. There are also someof Robert Zngg,s papersat the CenterinialMuseum of El Pasoand others with his widow. Emna Zngg, but few of these are of much interest and relativelya low proportion deal witlr .feral, affairs. On the ReverendSingh's lile and times the records and minutes of the United Society for Propagatingthe Gospelin London provided some usefirl information, but my chief sourceswere ttre archivesof Bishop's Collegeand the library at Bishop'sHousein Celcutta.Mrs P. L. Jana,the Reverend Singfi's daughter,who livesin Ranchi,Bihar hasin her posser sioo letters and mementoesbelongingto her father as well as the original prints and negativesof the wolf-children phote graphsand a portion ofmanuscrip! handwrittenin greenin\ which is probably the first draft ofthe wolf-cbildren diary as Iater publishedby flarpers, but beforeit waseditedby Bishop Pakenham-Walsh.Singh's original contemporary diaries appeareither to havebeenlost or destroyedand consequently I have had to rely heavily on the published 'Diary of the Wolf-Children of Midnapore'. In MidnaporeI found anotherthough limited sourcein rhe diariesof Dr SachinSarbadhicari,who wasthe Singhs'family physician.I alsoconsultedthe RegistersofBaptism and Burial for St John's, Midnapore and All Saints, Kharagpur, which arekept at the vicaragein Kharagpur.For muchof the information in this book I havedrawn from numerousinterviewscondtrted in dre courseof my researches. The most valuableof
thesewill be madeavailableshortly in a paperI am preparing on the zubject of the Midnapore wolf children and Feral Man. ChapterOne r4MaY rgo8. t. T"lrcStatesman, z. C,alcutta Diocesan Council Reports, Midnapore and Kharagpur,1916. 3. ibid., t9r5. 4. ibid. Ruord'' October rgr5, No. z. 5, CalcuttaDiocesan 6. Interview: Dr K. C. Sarbadhicari,zgMatch ry71 7, Zingg Collection"Rev. J. A. L. Singh' The Histdry of the S.P.G. Mksion Santal Eoongelizationof thetungle Traas, MiilnaPore,ro February 1936. 8. Calcuta DiocesanCouncil Reports,Kharagpurrr9r3. g. Zingg Collectiorq Singh to Mrs Henry Pfeitrer' zr May r938. ro. Bishop'sCollegeArchives,Ordination' ChoptetToo 19July 1937; L ZingsCollectioq Singhto Pakenham-Walsh, z. Rev. J. A. L. Singh and Robert M. Zngg, TVolf-Childrc* anil Feral Mon (irrcoryotaitng The Diary of tlu Wof' Children of Midnapora),Harper, tg4z, Innoduction, p. xsi. 'Amongthe Aboriginals" CalcuttaDioeesan 3. J. A. L. Singh, Recoril,November1933. 4. Singh andZingg, op. cit., Introduction, p' lxxii. 5. Interview: Nangi Hembron,zz April ry75. Chaptr Thec r. Bishop'sCollegeArchives,Midnaporc. z. SinghmdZtrgg, op. cit., p. 4. 3. ibid., pp. 5-6. 4. ibid., p. 6. 5. ibid.' p.7. 6. Interview: LasaMarandi, r Mey 1975.
7. SinghandZngg,op. cit., p. 8. 8. ibid., p. 8. 9. ibid., p. 8. ro. ibid., p. 9. rr. ibid.,p. 9. Chapt* Fou r. ibid.,pp. rr-r2. z. ibid., p. 18. 3. ibid.,p. 23. 4. ibid., pp.2g-3o. 5. ibid.,p. 6. 6. ibid.,p. r9. 7. ibid., p. 45. 8. ibid., p. 45. 9. ibid.,p. 35. ro. ibid.,p. 15. rr. ibid.,p. 15. rz. ibid.,p. zr. 13. Bishop'sCollegefuchives, Gandhi.
3r5
Chapt* Fioe r. Singh andZirrgg,op. cit., pp.43-+ z. ibid.,p. 38. 3. JanaMS. 4. ibid. 5. ibid. 6. ibid. 7. ibid. 8. ibid. 9. Singh andZingg,op. cit., p.4r. ro. JanaMS. rr. SinghandZingg,op. cit., p. 52. rz. ibid.,p. 54. 13. ibid.,p. 59. t4. ibid., p. 97. (Order 15. for the Burial of a Child', The Book of Common Prayr (ae.ording to the use of the Church of India" Palistaq Burma and C*ylon).
Chaptu Sir r. JanaMS. z. MedinipurHitoishi, z4 Ottober rgzr. 3. SinghardZngg, op. cit., p. 65. 4. JanaMS. z3 Decemberrgzt. 5. The Statesmon, Recoril,Decemberr9zr, Vol. X' No. g. 6, CalcuttaDiocesan ibid. 7. 8. Zingg C,ollection,Singh to Mrs Henry Pfeiffer, zr May r938. DiocesanC-ouncilReporf rg22-3. Calcutta 9. ro. SinghandZingg,op. cit., p. 58. rr. ibid.,p. 66. n. bid.,p.76. r3. ibid., p. 73. 14. JanaMS. r5. ibid. 16. ibid. 17. ibid. Chapto Snen r. Interview:LouiseMani Das,rzApril 1975. z. JanaMS. 3. Singh atdZngg, op. cit., p. 9o. 4. JanaMS. 5. ibid. 6. SinghandZlrlrggop. cit., p. ror. 7. JanaMS. 8. ibid. 9. SinghandZrngg,op. cit., p. roz. ro. JanaMS. n. TheBookof ConmonPrayer. Chapta Eight r. Bishop'sCollegeArchives,Gond'hi. z. JanaMS. 3. ibid. a. ibid.
5. Arnold GesellPapers,Starementby the Re Rw. pakeoham-Walsh,zMay rg4a. 6. ibid. 7. WestninsterGazette,4 O*obet ry26. 8. ibid. 9. The Statesman,13 November1926. ro. Zrngg Cnllectioq Pakenharn-Walshto Zingg, 14 March 1940. rr. ibid., Singh to Dr R. RugglesGates,7 March r94o. rz. SinghandZngg,op. cit., p.87. ChagtcrNitu r. JanaMS. 2. Letters in possession of Mrs Jana. 3. Arnold GesellPaperqMrs Singh to Gesell,6 J:dtriy ry42 4. ibid. 5. Intenriew: Mrs GeetaMatlik, 15 May 1975. 6. Singh andZrngg,op. cit., p. ro8. 7. Arnold GesellPapers,lfirs Singh to Gesell,6 luly ry42. 8. Interview: Rt. Rev. R. W. Bryan, nMay ry75. 9. Anaican journol of Psychology,yol,46,ry36,p. r4g. ro. ibid. rr. Singh and,Ztagg,op. cit., Preface,p. nrvi. rz. ibid., p. 89. r3. Interview:P. C. Ganguh 9 May rg75. 14. Bishop'sCollegeArchives,Midnapore. 15. W. F. Ogburn,andN. K. Bose,'On the trail of the wolfchildren', GeneticPsychohgyMonographsrNo.6o. 16. Singh andZrrrgg,op. cit., p. rrz. r7. funold GesellPapers,Mrs Singhto Gese[ 6 JuIy ry42. 18. ibid. rg. Tln Bookof CommonPrayet. ChapterTen r. Bimal Dasgupta, 'Tale of Peddie Murder yet Untold'. MidnapweCollegeMagazinc. z. ibid. g April r93r. 3. The Statesman, 4. Sir Robert N. Reid, Yearsof Changein Bengaland Assom, t966.
5. Dasgupta,op. cit. 6. Subodh Chandra Bose, 'Peddie Greeted with Bullets', MidnaporeCollegeMagoziru. 7. The Statewan,ro April r93r. Archives,Mdnapore, Molony to Westcott, 8. Bishop'sC,ollege 1932. July 9. ibid" Hewitt to Molony, 14 August 1932. rc. Zngg C,ollection,Singh to Pakenham-Walsh,z6 April I94I' rr. Bishop'sCollegeArchives,Kharagpur. rz. Arnold GesellPapers,Singh to Gesell,4 April 1933. 4, Zngg C.ollection,Singh to Pakenham-Walsh,z6 April I94I. r4.'ibid., Zinggto EugeneF. Saxton,3Februaryr94r. . 15. Arnold GesellPapers,SquirestoZitgg,3o August 1942. 16. ibid. 17. American tournal of Psychologit,Yol. 46, ry36,p. r4g. 18. Zingg Collection,Kelloggto Zingg, rr October1938. r9. Singh andZrngg, op. cit., Frontispiece. zo. Zngg CrcllectiorqSingh to RugglesGates,z April r94o. zr. ibid. zz. ibid., Pakenham-Walshto Zngg (quotes Goffin), z6 February1938. 23. ibid., Znggto Singh,zo Januaryt937. ChapterEleaen r. Zingg C.ollection,Zingg to ProfessorR. Inn&erjee, 18 January1938. z. ibid., Zngg to Singh,EasterDan 1938. 3. ibid., Zinggto Redfield,5April 1938. to Zingg,3o July 1938. 4. ibid., Pakenham-Walsh z9 June 1938. 5. ibid., Znggto Pakenham-Walsh, to Zingg,z5 May 1938. 6. ibid., Pakenham-Walsh 'Night-Shining Eyes', Nature, 14 Septemberr94o, Vol. 7. 46,p.366. 8. CiirrentBiograglty,r94o,Vol. r, No. rr. 9. Arnold Gesetl,TheDocummtationof Infant Behaoiourcnd its Relation to Cultural Anthropologlt, 8th American ScientificCongress,4May ry4o. ro. ibid.
rr. Arnold Gesell,ll/olfChildandl{unanChikl,Harya, ry4t. tz. Zingg Collection, Pakenham-Walshto Zingg, 19 March 1939. 13. ibid., RugglesGatesto Singh,19Januaryr94o. 14. ibid., Singhto RugglesGates,7 March r94o. 15. ibid. 16. ibid., Singh to RugglesGates,2 April r94o. 17. ibid. 18. ibid., Pakenham-Walsh to Zingg, 15 March r94o. rg. ibid., Zingg to Singh, r May r94o. zo. ibid., Gesellto Singh, z7 March r94o. zr. ibid., Gesellto Singh,3o Septemberrg4o. zz. ibid. 43. ibid., Zingg to Gesell,9 Oaober r94o. 24. Tine,3 March r94r. 45. Arnold GesellPapers,Evansto Miss K. Gauss,19January T941. 26. ibid., Mandelbaumto Zingg, zr April rg4r. 27. ibid., Singh to Gesell,z3 June r94r. 28. Jaurnal ofSociol Psychologr,July r94r. ChapterTnehte Recard,Novemberrg4r. t. CalcuttaDiocesan z. Zingg C.ollection,Zrnggto Gesell,z4 February 1942. 3. ibid., Znggto Gesell,z9 May rg4z, 4. ibid. 5. ibid., Gesellto Zinggr 3 Jrlr;rery42. Vol. 45, p.468. 6. AmericanAnthropologist, 7. Arnold GesellPapers. 8. ibid., Znggt.o Gesell,1948. 9. ibid., Gesell, rz February 1947. ro. Zingg Collection,Zingg to GesellandRugglesGates,1944. rr. ibid. rz. ibid. 13. Arnold Gesell Papers, T. Campbell Rogers to Zingg, 1944. Epilogue r. Interview: Dr J. M. Sanna"z8 May t975.
Index
Albn and Unwin, 253,258 Bhulu, r55 Am.h: Brothcrs ofthe Poor, zo ailtism, zgz Brown, Father Ernest, 26, rol, baptism,r3r rPr293 capture, 66 Bryan, Ronald, r88, zo8 first daysat'The.Honre'r 77 BurgE Mr, 23or z8g funeral, r3z-3 illness and death, rz5-3o Calcutta,97-ro3, 143-5 named,8o Cahuua DiocesanRetord, r4t, Amarda, 68 r77r 2331279,293 American EpiscopalChurch, Calcatta S tatesrtan, see t42 Statesman(Calcuta) AmericanJournal of Psychologlt, Carret, Mr, zz7 237,246,266,z69 Caeparllauser, 246 Amri.can lTeekfu,253 Chainsolg 5z Andrews,C,F,, r77 Chirimarshai, 97 Auxiliary Forcc, India (A-FI), Christa SishyaSangha,243 r87, r98 Chunererq 53-8, 6r, 73-St 24tt Avey'ron,Wild Boy of, 246 259,299 (hurch of Indi*, 2o8 BaboonBoy, 253, 26r, 207 Church Missionary Society, 193 Babu, Hiralal zz8 Coimbatore,z4z. Babu, Narayan, zz8 Coo( ilh, r4o Babusahu,Mr., 55 Cool Mrs,97 'Balcombg Arthur, zo&rz, Craig, Mr (Inspector-General), 230-33,274 224 Bareilty, 39 Bafipdeq6z Deniel (bearerto J. A" L Beniamin,95-6, r5S Singh),5r, 56 Bettelheim, Bruno, zgr-z Darg Raymondt 24g-5o Bhadua Sol, 48 Das, C, R., r75, t78 Bishop's Collegg 26, r4o Daq Louis Mani, 16r Bose,Nirmal, 294-8 Desgupta,Bimal, zzr, 2261214 Bose,Subodh Cbandn, zz7. Dasgupta,Hhdal, zz6
Denganalia"34, 48-g, 55,6r, 64, zgg 'V'Iayne,2661 Dennis, Deo, Dibakar Bhani, 621, 7o, z4r, z6o,3oo Deo, Puri Chandra Bhani, Maharajahof Mayurbhanj, 4q Deo (son of Diba&ar Bhanj), . 30r Deshua Sendra"4G8 Dey, SurendraMohan, r3e Douglas (magistrate),289 Dyer, General, ror Evans,Bergen,268 Forbes, Rosita, r9z Gandhi, Mahatma, roo, r2g, t75-9,224 Ganguly, Puno Chandrq z16 Gates,Prof. Ruggles, z4gr2;r, 253-5,26o44 283 Gee, Rev., z5 Geonthali, 2rr, 232 Gesell, Arnold, 24g-St, 25SJ7, 264-8,274 z7g-83,zN Ghorabandha"299 Ghosal, Ranjarq r98 Ghosh, Jetijiban, zz6 Glennie,E. A,,254, Godamuri, 53,56-7, 6r, 74n 295,48 Gomn, Mr, z4z-3,248 Griffiths, Percivat 273 Guin, K. C., 168 Guin, Capt. M., 168
32r
Hansda,Karan, 5r, 6g173-5, zb Ilarper's (publishers), 265,z7o Earlter's Magazine, 268-9, z8t llazaribagh, 18, zr
Hechtrnan,J. H., 258 Hessianwolf boy 246,267 Hewitt, Lionel, z3z, 274, 287 Hodson, zz4 Hollander, Sydney, 24g-So, 252 'The Home': closurg 288 fire, r58 Ifoward, John A., zro Hutton, Prcf. l.lL, z6o4z Huxley,Julian S., rgr-a Illustrated Timesof lrdia, 243, 246 Irwin, Lord, zz3 Jana,Preeti Lota" secSingtr, Preeti Loto Jena"Mr, 196 Jhargram,Rsjah of, zr,278 townal of Social Psychologr,z@ Kamala: associationwith animals,r3n r48, 16r aartsm,zgz baptism, q3-4,2o4 capturg 66 death,zrg expressions, r83 first daysat 'The *Iome', 77 guilt, r8z illness,rz5, zr3-r9 named,So reaction to death of Amala, r34 sickless allowancerefused, 146 smgrng,rgg smell, r84 speech,r6G7r standing and walking, 14953, ft2ff Kellogg,W. N., 239 Kenan,Rev., 63 Kennedg Pringlq rr Kharagpur, 19
Khatua, Bhagobhat,14, Srz S$ 5@,75, z4r, z6o Khatua, Jageswar,14, 86 3or Khiroda, rrr Kipling, Rudyard, Tz Kosdia, 64 Krogman, Wilton" z5r-5 Kuarl4 44 Lefroy, George,Bishop of Calcutta, r5, z5 Lithuanian bear boys, 246 Long, Rev., 98 Lowman (Inspector-General), 224 Lytton, Lord, tgSrzoT Macmillan (publishers),249, 2521258 Madan TheatresCo., r98 Mahato,Ghambir,681 Mahato, Mrr 68-9 Maitra, Aswini Kuma4 zz7 Maiwana wolf boy, aoa Maji, Motrar 64 Mallik, Geeta"zoz-3 Mandelbaum, Davrd, z691o Manica, zoo Maran, Buru, 5o Marandi, Gita,64 Marandi, Lasa, 64 2gg, 3or Mayurbhanj,33-4 Dewar of, 6z Maharajahof,461 Mead, Margaret, 268 M edinipurHit aishi, r 36, r 4o, t4r, z6z Midnapore,g, r2r 22r Miilnapore City Press,196 Midnapore Zarnndai Cn,, 97, r40 Mills, Lady Dorothg r9r Molonn A. C. 8., 23r4r 235, .274,278
Mondhal, llarlpda, z,96 Montagug Prof, Ashley, z8r+ Mozufferpore, rr Murran lvbior, zz$ Nalgoja, 6z-3 Naraiole, Rajah o[ 2r, r33, zrr,278 Nathaniel, Dr, tol Nayagaram,5zr z9g NewH aoenJownal Cowiert
25w
Nco Repablic,268 Ogburn, William,294-8 Orphanage,see'The Home' Oxford Mission, z6 Oxford University Prus, z4z Pachu,r55 Pakenham-WalsluHerberg r87, r9r, 196rzo4rzt6, 235-6, 24a-44 248, z5o-5r, 258,z6r,263-4" 284 zg9 Parsons,Herbert, 254 Patherdogra,63 Pattanaik,Gopabandha"4g-5o, 55,62164' 7o Pattanaik,Umakanta, 3or Payne,Russellr tsg, 23r Pcddie,James,zzr-9, z8g Pfeiffer, Annie, 245, 27or 279 Pilibhit, 39 Pionea, zoz Prince of Wales, r4o, r43, 219 PsychologicalSocietyof New York, zr3 Redfield, Dr, 246, 2483, 253 Reid, Sir Robert, ro, 186, rg8, zz6 Richards, Henry, 5n 614 66, 98,74, r33r24o-.4r,25fu, 28o
,
1 I
l,t"'
Rosg Alex*nder, 57 Rose,Petern57, 6v4, 66, 68, 74, r33rz4O-4rrz5g4O, 289 Rousseau,Jean-Jacques,267 RugglesGates,Prof., reaGates, Prof. Ruggler Saila,r55 Salgaria,14 Salis,Count J. de, rg8 Santra,Dr, ztgrzt9 Saranii, Kalandi, 69 Sarbadhicari,Kshitish, 18 Sarbadhicari,Sachin, 89, ro6, 125-37,r43, r45, r54or73, r94,2r\ zr3-r4, zr8, z6z, 277 Sarma,lyotimoya" 297-8 Sengupta,rz6 Singh, Bhadud, 63-4 Singll Bimoila, 6z Singb, Buonal-otq 88,276 Singb Daniel 2r,88,9r, r78, 2754,278, 288 rift with father, r7q8o snakebitg ro5-8 Singh, Iswari, 6a Singh, JosephAmrito Lal: arrival at Midnapore, 7 bactground,r7-r9 death, 278 discoveryof missionary vocation, ao early missionarytours, z8-5o financial difficulties, 2r2, 235 honorary magistrate,2Jo, 274 hunting, zr Midnapore Church Committee, 247-r3 ordination, zG7 publication of diary, 238 z4t-a,258 relations with familY, 275ff
retirement as missionary,z3o Singh, JosephHiralal, 17, 18 Singh, Jotindro Lal (Joti Babu), roGg Singh, Luther, r7 Singh, Preeti Lot4 88, rr9, r8o, 2r8, 276,zg8 Singh,RachelMninmoye,r5, 18 death, zgo first meetsAmala and Kamalq 77 Kamala pines for, r7r visited by Dr Zingg, zB4 Singh, Timothy, 17; r8o Singh (wife of Daniel), e98 Sleeman,C-o1.,246 Smith, G. Elliot, rgr Society for the Propagationof the Gospel in Foreign Parts, r3 Sonny (nephewofJ. A. L. Singh),ror Squires,Paul C., 196,z37-4r, 250 Statesmar(Calcutta), r9z-5, z4o, z6o,263-4, z&g Tantigoria, 12, 75, 88 Tapoban, 63 ?egart, Sir Cfuiles, zz3-4 Time nagazine,267-8 ?operar 48 Tubbs, Rev., r5g, 16o Tudu, Janu, Sz, 69, 73, 74, 75, z6o VanguardPress,258, a6z Vevers,G, M., r9r Villiers, Mr (Presidentof EuropeanAssociation),234 Waight, H. G., 237, 23g, 24L Walsh; Herbert Pakenham-seg Pakenham-Welsh,Herbert
Walters, Godfrcy Reynol4 235231 \lYeerworth (Superintendentof Police),r79, 186 Webber,Pacy, r4z, zr3 Westcoq Foss,Bishop, 99, roq ro'2,t46, r77,2rr lYestminstcr Gazette, rgr'3 Wolf Children Synpo6iuut' 25r-4
Wolseley,Lord, rgrz IVoIves: attacts on humans,39 comparedwith Northern species,37-8 hunting techniques,37-8 Woodgate,Mr, r33 Zingg, Robert, 48-9, 243'4 245r7o,2799o
The Santal village of Denganalia i n yurbhanj, Orissa, where the wolfildren were taken soon after their pture in the forest nearby
Typical Bengal countryside with ddy fields
3. J. A. L. Singh with his wife, Rachel, and daughter, Preeti Lota, c. 19o6, when he first went to Midnapore as a schoolmaster
5. Louis-Mani Das, a former inmate of the Singh's orphanage and contemporary of Kamala, the wolf-child, standing in front of the ruined porch of the Home, April rg7 s
4. St John's Church, Midnapore
6. The Rev. Singh with some of orphans
. A Santal tribesman in Mayurbhanj
, A tribal hunting party in May, when re jungle dries up leaving little protecve cover for the animals
The Indian wolf (Canis lupuspallipes)
. An abandoned termitary (eight feet h) similar to one in which the lves had made their den, and from ich the wolf-children were captured
. The temple and tank below Amarda dak bungalow, where the Rev. ngh brought the wolf-children on the ht of the capture
r r. Lasa Marandi, a Santal from the village of Denganalia, who took part as a boy in the capture of the wolf-children
: : t :t : t : .
. ,.. ..:::.r:: ' ::
j
13. Kamala and Amala soon after they were brought to the orphanage
* : : : : : : . i r . : : : : , . | :.::: i : : : : , , : : : ...:l :r#::::::.::::
15. A wolf and Kamala running on fout's. At top speed she could hardly overtaken by a grown man, but it is
doubtful whether she could have kept up with a wolf over any distance
20. Kamala in the front of the orphanage compound
zr. Kamala scratching the ground in imitation of a rooster she befriended
23. Reaching up for a plate of food as partof an exercisefor learning to stand
24. Carrying a toy in her mouth.
5. Kamala would sit for hours rner of the room, isolated from
26. Scratching at the courtyard gate to get out
28. Playing with the orphanagedogs
27. Disappearing into the lanta bushesat the bottom of the garden
zg. Running across the courtya with a dead chicken (ot possibly pigeon) in her mouth
Receiving a biscuit from Mrs Singh
3 r. Kamala rejectsa puppy
33. Kamala first stood on ro June rgz3
32. Hanging from the branches of tree helped to straighten her legs
34. Kamala walking by herself for t first time
5. The Rev. Singh, Kamala and Mrs ingh pose for the photographer of the Statesman,November ry26
36. The orphanage group. Kamala is sitting on the ground between the Singhs
37. Robert M. uniform
Zingg in Red Cross
38. Bishop Herbert Pakenham-Walsh
