How the earliest travel writers from India saw the worldHis turban couldnt have been a match to the monkey cap but Munshi Itesamuddin was a worthy predecessor to the untiring Bengali traveller. In 1765,the employee of the East India Company from Nadia district in West Bengal did what no one in his community had attempted. He set sail for England. The voyage was difficult,he worried about falling ill and quailed at the dirty feeding habits of the Europeans. But he was on a mission: he had to deliver a letter from the enfeebled Mughal Emperor Shah Alam to George III,asking for protection of the British army. His work was not done but he wrote an account of his adventures,Shigurfnama-i-Vilayet,the first piece of Indian travel writing.The world was a much bigger place in the 18th century,vast swathes of it unconnected and unfamiliar to each other. Travelling was expensive and difficult and caught up in superstition. Hindus could lose their caste if they crossed the black waters. It was rare for Indians to make the journey to Europe,rarer still for them to write about their travels. Three decades after Itesamuddin landed in England,in 1799,London would host another traveller from India,Mirza Abu Taleb,who became the toast of its circles as the Persian Prince. The Lucknowi noblemans accounts of his travels from 1799 to 1803,through France,Italy,Turkey and Iraq,is an enjoyable read,enlivened by wit,intelligence and quirky prejudices. What is striking is that these men from semi-feudal,semi-urban communities could perceive the momentous changes that Europe was going through during the Industrial Revolution. They did not see the world as Muslims but wrote from a broad,tolerant perspective, said historian Mushirul Hasan,who has edited Exploring the West (Oxford University Press,Rs 795),a compilation of early travel narratives from India (excerpts on the right and Page 4). It includes Itesamuddins and Talebs travelogues and another rare book: an autobiography of an ordinary,educated Indian,Lutfullah Khan,written in impeccable English. Itesamuddin stood out in 18th century London as he visited playhouses and ambled in its parks. Londoners had not seen someone dressed like him a turban on my head,a sash tied around my waist and a dagger in my belt. Some thought he was a great man of Bengal,perhaps the brother of a nawab; children thought he was a black devil. I,who went to see a spectacle,became myself a sight to others, he writes. Abu Taleb was 47 when he set off for England with a Scottish friend because his career as a nobleman in India was going nowhere. Once he shook off his despondency,he had a roaring time in London,indulging his amorous self and composing atrocious verses in praise of English women. Six artists painted his portraits,two of which were displayed in a Royal Academy exhibition. Todays well-heeled urban Indian has been to Paris,done London. But flipping through the pages of these early travelogues is like travelling back in time. There is a sense of wonder in these travelogues at the sound of coach wheels that never leave the ears,the parks where women walk freely and unveiled,at brass name plates engraved on houses and that incredibly beautiful sport: skating. They are impressed by the strides of progress the English have made in the mechanisation of labour. In England,labour is much facilitated by mechanism, writes Taleb. He is stunned by foundries that manufactured needles and cheekily remarks how a very complete engine is used even to roast a chicken. There is not just uncritical appreciation of the West but a genuine evaluation of their character. Taleb devotes an entire chapter to the weaknesses of the English. And the best of his writing is never far away from the tugs of home. What does he really find irksome? The bed and mode of sleeping in England are by no means to my taste. They spread a sheet,two blankets and a quilt; all of which are closely tucked under the bedding,on three sides,leaving an entrance for the person to creep in next the pillows; which always reminded me of a bear climbing into the hole of a large tree. London,1800Of the inventions of Europe,the utility of which may not appear at first sight to an Asiatic,the art of printing is the most admirable. By its aid,thousands of copies,of any scientific,or religious book,may be circulated among the people in a very short time; and by it,the works of celebrated authors are handed down to posterity,free from the errors and imperfections of a manuscript. To this art the English are indebted for the humble but useful publication of newspapers,without which life would be irksome to them. These are read by all ranks of people,from the prince to the beggar. They are printed daily,and sent every morning to the houses of the rich; but those who cannot afford to subscribe for one,go and read them at the coffee-rooms or public-houses. These papers give all account of everything that is transacting,either at home or abroad: they contain a minute description of all the battles that are fought,either by sea or by land; the debates in the Houses of Parliament; the state of the crops in the country; the price of grain and all other articles; the death or birth of any great personage; and even give information,that,on such a night,such a play will be performed,or such all actor will make his appearance I am convinced no country in the world affords so much facility of travelling as England. People of fortune,who travel in their own carriages,need never feel fatigue; but if a person is in a hurry,he has only to take a place in the Mail Coach,and may be conveyed a thousand miles in seven or eight days,well secured from all the inclemencies of the weather,and sure of a good breakfast and dinner. These carriages pay a tax to Government and are used by people of all ranks. Although these vehicles are in use in France,and all over Europe,there is no country where the same attention is paid to the comfort and ease of the passengers as in England. One of the greatest luxuries the English enjoy is the produce of their hot-houses. In these buildings they raise vegetables and fruits in the coldest season of the year; and the tables of the rich are covered with pineapples,melons and other fruits of the torrid zone. In this instance they excel us; for none of the Emperors of Hindoostan,in all the plenitude of their power,could ever have forced a gooseberry or a cherry,two of the most common fruits in Europe,to grow in their dominions. From Travels of Mirza Abu Taleb Khan (1810) Paris,1802The capital of France is an extensive and noble city,and,in its exterior appearance,for surpasses London. Its public buildings are all of stone,and are seldom less than eight stories high; some houses have even eleven stories. A considerable river of fresh water,called the Seine,runs through it; from which several canals have been cut,to communicate with the different parts of the city: over these canals are many bridges and over the river itself there are three handsome stone bridges,nearly as long as those of London .In Paris the coffee-houses are innumerable,but in general are very filthy; and as many of the French smoke segars or cheroots in them at all hours of the day,they smell shockingly of tobacco. I had been so long accustomed to English cookery,that during the whole of my residence in France and Italy I could never relish their culinary process. Their roasted meats are burned up,and retain not a drop of gravy: the boiled meats were also overdone,and quite stringy. The French are exceedingly fond of mixtures,that is,meat stewed with vegetables,and a great quantity of garlic,spices,etc. On this account I have frequently risen hungry from a table of thirty dishes,on the dressing of which much pains had been bestowed. The French in general,and especially the Parisians,are extremely courteous,affable,and flattering. They never make use of the simple words yes or no,but have always some circuitous phrase ready,expressive of the honour you confer,or their regret. In pointing out the road,or explaining anything to a foreigner,they are indefatigable,and consider such conduct as a proof of their good-breeding and humanity. You may call on a French gentleman at any hour,and relate to him your whole story twice over: he will listen with the greatest patience,and never betray a discontented look. How superior,in this respect,are they to the irritable and surly Englishmen! From Travels of Mirza Abu Taleb Khan Bombay,1823On the fourth day of our departure from Surat,we had the pleasure of seeing the island of the Presidency,surrounded first by the sea water,and then by lofty and handsome looking hills,except on the western side,which overlooks the vast sea as far as your eyesight can extend. On entering the harbour,I was astonished at the sight of a multitude of ships ,some of them like floating castles. The first sight of the innumerable masts and riggings from one end of the harbour to the other would lead one to think that it was an extensive forest of vessels all round the town. Our small boat really lost its consequence in my mind,as its proportion to the other vessels was no more than that of a sparrow to a phoenix. The magnificent view of the castle,encircling handsome and lofty edifices,quite different from what I had ever seen yet,attracted my attention, and the scene altogether was a charming one. History informs us that this place,now rising to be an emporium of the East,was no more than a fishing town of little or no consequence in the district of Aurangabad. In about 1499,after Vasco de Gamas arrival,the Portuguese,being stuck with the beauty of the place and the superior excellence of its safe harbour,resolved to obtain it; and it came into their hands in 1530,during the reign of Humayun,without much difficulty. The proud and ambitious Portuguese then having built the formidable castle to the fishing town,it began to assume consequence; and the confused state of the country during that time of disturbance inducing the neighbouring population to take shelter under the new patrons,who seemed to be just,and far from a tyrannical sect.Upon this,inhabitants of the neighbouring districts flocked daily to this place of security,and it soon became a city,but a very unhealthy one,on account of the site being intersected with numerous small streams,filled and emptied by the flow and ebb of the tides,and the putrid damp proved very injurious.From Lutfullah Khans Autobiography (1857) France,London,1765When we had approached within one or two coss of the shore,at Nantz,a town in France,we let go the anchor and fired a gun: a pilot-boat then put off to us,and the pilot brought us to the wharf of the French Company.Then the poor people who dealt in every commodity came and offered us for sale different kinds of fruit,bread,and fresh butter. The sailors,who had not seen this fare for six months,regaled themselves on it,and were greatly rejoiced at seeing their native land. I myself for six months had (hardly) seen any thing besides the sea and sky,and like a wild animal confined in the cage of the ship was continually numbering the planks,and thought that there were perhaps no bounds to the ocean. In short,the sight of the land and the buildings infused a new life into my frame. I thought it strange that the lower orders of French,who (I suppose) were unable to purchase (leathern) shoes,wore wooden ones,in which they walked along in a ludicrous and whimsical manner. In England,though there are (many) poor people,yet they do not appear abroad without (leathern) boots or shoes (In London),I was constantly in the habit of viewing the sights both in the city and neighborhood; and the English,who had never before seen a man of Hindoostan dressed in the manner I was,accounted me a great curiosity. They came to me in crowds,and because I was a foreigner they were very kind to me.Whenever I attempted to go abroad,crowds accompanied me,and the people in the houses of the bazars thrust their heads out of the windows and gazed at me with wonder. The children and boys took me for a black devil.After two or three months had passed in this way every one entered into friendship with me,and the fear which the common people had of me all vanished: they then approached me,and the ladies of the bazar,smiling,said,come,my dear,and kiss me.From Munshi Itesamuddin's Shigurfnama-i-Vilayet (1825)
