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Is India Going Modern? (Conttnued From Third Page.) in-patients and an average of double that number of out-patients. In this part of the world the in- heritance passes in the female line, to the eldest daughter of the eldest sister, except in the case of the Maha- rajah, who must always be a man, in order to lead his army. Otherwise matriarchy prevails. Husbands are harmless, necessary ornaments of the family. They accept the role gracefully, for their responsibilities are few and their opportunities for pleasure are many in this enchanted land. Visit to Palace. T had the privilege of meeting their highnesses of Travancore, the Maha- rajah and his mother. I went to the palace, according to custom, in a dark suit, with stiff collar. They received me in white robes, barefooted, in a European drawing room. From our surroundings we might have been in London. The Maharajah talked of the recent reform act and of tennis. Her highness is one of the leaders in the emancipation of women; she had much to say of similar movements in the West, of Mrs. Sanger, of Mr. Gandhi, of all the problems of the day. While she talked her well- tended toes drummed on the parquet floor. . . . ‘Travancore state is prosperous, con- tentei, better educated than any other part of India. The public li- brary in Trivandrum contains 40,000 volumes. Everywhere there are signs of modern progress, but the Brahmin priesthood still holds sway; according to them the true ruler of the country is Padmanabhaswami, “the lotus- naveled god,” who is an aspect of Siva. ‘The Maharajah, as his earthly regent, pays him homage once a year, sweep- ing the purlieus of his temple clad in nothing but a white loin-cloth. From Travancore to Swat is 2,000 miles. When I passed through Mala- kand, 80 miles northeast of the frontier city of Peshawar, I thought that I was going into the wilds of Central Asia. But another surprise awaited me: I found, at the Vali of Swat's capital of Saidu Sharif, a beau- tiful European house, with marble bath rooms, radios, telephones . . . Just how surprising a marble bath room can be in Swat it is difficult to convey to the home-abiding reader; ‘we are so accustomed to modern con- | venierices that we take them for granted. But after traveling thou- sands of miles and meeting nothing | but tubs with a kerosene tin of hot | water by their side, it is glorious to stretch one’s limbs, turn taps, use a | shower. Except perhaps for one or two houses in Peshawar, there is no | such plumbing as that of Saidu Sharif | within a radius of a thousand miles. Meets Vali of Swat. The Vali of Swat is a keen-eyed, ruddy-cheeked man of 60, who fought his way to his throne against great difficulties. Although he can neither read nor write, he flies regularly, is & good architect, has had his king- dom thoroughly surveyed, has built hundreds of miles of roads and has installed an excellent telephone sys- tem. When I first met him he was in a powerful touring car, accom- panied by six rifiemen. | Yet another contrast awaited me | on leaving this smiling valley with its | vivid ruler, for I went straight from there to the most contemplative city in the world, Rishikesh, where the sacred River Ganges flows out of the Himalayas. A quarter of a million people pass through Rishikesh every year, on their ‘way to the sources of the Ganges and Jumna. A thousand holy men live in the city itself, or in reed huts along the banks of the river. Here are mahatmas who sit naked through the depths of a Himalayan Winter, melting the snow round them by some unknown power by which they generate warmth; here are Yogis who have been immured like corpses in & coffin for periods of a month and longer, and here are some of the most renowned philosophers in India. (Here also are some of the biggest rascals unhung, for a murderer sometimes assumes the robes of an ascetic nndi goes on a pilgrimage to escape the | vigilance of the police.) | Time Stands Still. ‘Time has stood still in Rishikesh | and the outside world is practically non-existent. Life consists of plain living and high thinking carried to extremes from a European point of view. I visited many sages in the encamp- ment by the river. One of them, the Singing Swami, wanders all over the north of India with flute and song book, then retires to a cave and medi- tates in complete solitude for six months or more. Another sage I found to be writing a treatise on the human brain, in the intervals of milk- | ing cows and ploughing fields; he be- | lieves every one, especially those en- gaged in intellectual labor, should do some hard physical work each day. Yet another ascetic had beeh bricked-up for nine days in a cave without food or water, in the trance- like state of ecstasy known as samadhi. According to well-attested reports, all | natural functions were in abeyance. At the end of this period the en- trance to his cave was unbricked, he was taken into the sunlight, massaged, and a secret invocation whispered in his ear. Presently his consciousness returned from the other world to which it had taken flight. And the purpose? It was difficult to ascertain what enlightenment this young Yogi (he was & mere boy) had received during his visit to the strange borderland between being and not being. But I am sure that this old wisdom of the East has an eminently practical basis. Its foundation is a healthy mind in a healthy body, which is no special prerogative of the ancient Romans or of any modern people. School of Hatha Yoga. There is a very famous school of Hatha Yoga at Rishikesh (no one knows how old it is, but its traditions have been handed down from father to son since long before books were thought of) which prescribes various movements and positions which have for their purpose the strengthening of the muscles of the abdominal wall and the stimulation of the thyroid gland. Of course, such ideas are not new in the West. But they are hardly more than 20 or 30 years old with us; whereas they were common knowledge to the Aryans 20 or 30 centuries ago. Hatha Yoga exercises would require much space to describe, and this is not the place to do so; but it is in- teresting to note that many of them have been adopted, almost unchanged, by beauty parlors and physical cul- ture establishments. In fact, I have seen the boxer Kid Lewis in training at Richmond, go through part of the very same discipline to which the stu- dents at Rishikesh are subjected. It is curious to think that the same methods may be employed to put ginger into a punch and to commune with the Divine! As to psychoanalysis, there are Hindu treatises on the subject dating from 800 A.D. and with a tradition ex- LAST WEEK | OF OUR ANNUAL JANUARY SALE OF EYEWEAR —This sale offers many out- standing values. Every article is guaranteed to give you the satisfaction you expect from a modern, accurate, comfortable pair of glasses. Y Specially Featured! ““BENLEY" —White or flesh- tint gold filled. “Pear- loid” noserest and ‘“rocking” pads. “’"REGAL" * RIMLESS GLASSES ‘{_ i )'7 171 £ —Choice of white or pink gold filled. “Pearloid” noserest and “rock- ing” pads. 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Matelasse Dress Crepes —Not of o me, ‘:’% ‘%mm .a%l::g:rauumlw charm-, ‘evening costumes. o 1y Spring cdresses. q{temopn nubs, 54 $1.59 88cyd. - “FREE WESTINGHOUSE" Electric Sewing Machines Regularly $89.50 - 339.00 the imperial capital to viceroy’s house. Twenty seivants awaited us, dressed in scarlet and gold. My suite consisted of four rooms. On my writing table was a printed program of their excellencies’ engagements, which included the otherwise obscure fact of my arrival! ® Presently, in a very creased evening dress, with miniature medals I had not worn for many a day, I appeared in the state drawing room, where again I found my name in print, on & to H. H. the Begam Aga Khan at dinner. Now I was marshaled in the line of the newly-arrived guests to bow to Lord and Lady Wallingdon . . . And it was only the evening before that a monkey had been stealing my bananas! Yes, the inquiring traveler will find color and contrast in lavish plenty throughout this old subcontinent. 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