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After the tropical nights of the Red Sea and the scorching hot days that had tortured us since Aden<ref>''Aden'' – seashore city of Yemen, near the eastern approach to the Red Sea (the Gulf of Aden). – Ed.</ref>, we, North people, now experienced something strange and unwonted, intensively charming in this wonderfully soft fresh air of the dawn. There was not a cloud in the sky, thickly strewn with dying stars. Even the moonlight, which till then had covered the sky with its silvery garb, was gradually vanishing; and the brighter grew the rosiness of dawn over the small island that lay before us in the East, the paler in the West grew the scattered rays of the moon that sprinkled with bright flakes of light the dark wake our ship left behind her, as if the glory of the West was bidding good-bye to us, people from America, while the light of the East welcomed the newcomers from far-off lands. Brighter and bluer grew the sky, swiftly absorbing the remaining pale stars one after the other, and we felt something touching in the sweet dignity with which the Queen of Night resigned her rights to the powerful usurper. At last, descending lower and lower, she disappeared completely...
After the tropical nights of the Red Sea and the scorching hot days that had tortured us since Aden<ref>''Aden'' – seashore city of Yemen, near the eastern approach to the Red Sea (the Gulf of Aden). – Ed.</ref>, we, North people, now experienced something strange and unwonted, intensively charming in this wonderfully soft fresh air of the dawn. There was not a cloud in the sky, thickly strewn with dying stars. Even the moonlight, which till then had covered the sky with its silvery garb, was gradually vanishing; and the brighter grew the rosiness of dawn over the small island that lay before us in the East, the paler in the West grew the scattered rays of the moon that sprinkled with bright flakes of light the dark wake our ship left behind her, as if the glory of the West was bidding good-bye to us, people from America, while the light of the East welcomed the newcomers from far-off lands. Brighter and bluer grew the sky, swiftly absorbing the remaining pale stars one after the other, and we felt something touching in the sweet dignity with which the Queen of Night resigned her rights to the powerful usurper. At last, descending lower and lower, she disappeared completely...


And suddenly, almost without interval between darkness and light, the red-hot globe, emerging on the opposite side from under the cape, leant his golden chin on the lower rocks of the island and seemed to stop for a while, as if examining us... Then, with one powerful effort, the torch of day rose high over the sea, instantly dispelled the darkness and gloriously proceeded on its path, including in one mighty fiery embrace the blue waters of the bay, the bungalows on the shore and the islands with their rocks and coconut forests. His golden rays did not forget to pet a crowd of Parsees-Gebras, his rightful worshippers, who stood on shore raising their arms towards the mighty “Eye of Ormuzd.” The sight was so impressive that everyone on deck became silent for a moment, even a red-nosed old sailor, who was busy quite close to us over the cable, stopped working, and, clearing his throat, nodded at the sun.
And suddenly, almost without interval between darkness and light, the red-hot globe, emerging on the opposite side from under the cape, leant his golden chin on the lower rocks of the island and seemed to stop for a while, as if examining us... Then, with one powerful effort, the torch of day rose high over the sea, instantly dispelled the darkness and gloriously proceeded on its path, including in one mighty fiery embrace the blue waters of the bay, the bungalows on the shore and the islands with their rocks and coconut forests. His golden rays did not forget to pet a crowd of Parsis-Gebras, his rightful worshippers, who stood on shore raising their arms towards the mighty “Eye of Ormuzd.” The sight was so impressive that everyone on deck became silent for a moment, even a red-nosed old sailor, who was busy quite close to us over the cable, stopped working, and, clearing his throat, nodded at the sun.


Moving slowly and cautiously along the charming but treacherous bay, we had plenty of time to admire the picture around us. On the right was a group of islands with Gharipuri or Elephanta, with its ancient temple, at their head. ''Gharipuri'' translated means “the town of caves” according to the Orientalists, and “the town of purification” if we trust the native Sanskrit scholars. This temple, cut out by an unknown hand in the very heart of a rock resembling porphyry, is a true apple of discord among the archaeologists, of whom none can as yet fix, even approximately, its antiquity. Elephanta raises high its rocky brow, all overgrown with age-old cactus, and right under it, at the foot of the rock, are hollowed out the chief temple and the two lateral ones. Like fairy-tale Zmei Gorynych<ref>''Zmei Gorynych'' (Rus.: Змей Горыныч) – three-headed snake (or dragon) in Russian fairy tales, literally: “serpent, the son of a mountain”. – Ed.</ref>, it seems to be opening its fierce black mouth to swallow the daring mortal who comes to learn the secret mystery of a titan. Its two remaining teeth, dark with time, are formed by two huge pillars –  the entrance, sustaining the palate of the monster.
Moving slowly and cautiously along the charming but treacherous bay, we had plenty of time to admire the picture around us. On the right was a group of islands with Gharipuri or Elephanta, with its ancient temple, at their head. ''Gharipuri'' translated means “the town of caves” according to the Orientalists, and “the town of purification” if we trust the native Sanskrit scholars. This temple, cut out by an unknown hand in the very heart of a rock resembling porphyry, is a true apple of discord among the archaeologists, of whom none can as yet fix, even approximately, its antiquity. Elephanta raises high its rocky brow, all overgrown with age-old cactus, and right under it, at the foot of the rock, are hollowed out the chief temple and the two lateral ones. Like fairy-tale Zmei Gorynych<ref>''Zmei Gorynych'' (Rus.: Змей Горыныч) – three-headed snake (or dragon) in Russian fairy tales, literally: “serpent, the son of a mountain”. – Ed.</ref>, it seems to be opening its fierce black mouth to swallow the daring mortal who comes to learn the secret mystery of a titan. Its two remaining teeth, dark with time, are formed by two huge pillars –  the entrance, sustaining the palate of the monster.
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India is the land of legends and of mysterious nooks and corners. There is not a ruin, not a monument, not a thicket, that has no story attached to it. Yet, however they may be entangled in the cobweb of popular imagination, which becomes thicker with every generation, it is difficult to point out a single one that is not founded on fact. With patience and, still more, with the help of the learned Brahmans you can always get at the truth, when once you have secured their trust and friendship. But, of course, not for the British, with their arrogance and clearly shown contempt for the “defeated race,” to expect something like that. Therefore, between the officially investigated India and (if one may say so) the ''underground'', real India, there is the same difference as between Russia in the novels by Dumas-père<ref>Dumas-father (Fr.). [https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alexandre_Dumas Alexandre Dumas] (1802-1870) – a famous and very prolific French writer,  the one of the most widely read French authors, mainly known for his historical novels of high adventure. – Ed.</ref> and the real ''Russian'' Russia.
India is the land of legends and of mysterious nooks and corners. There is not a ruin, not a monument, not a thicket, that has no story attached to it. Yet, however they may be entangled in the cobweb of popular imagination, which becomes thicker with every generation, it is difficult to point out a single one that is not founded on fact. With patience and, still more, with the help of the learned Brahmans you can always get at the truth, when once you have secured their trust and friendship. But, of course, not for the British, with their arrogance and clearly shown contempt for the “defeated race,” to expect something like that. Therefore, between the officially investigated India and (if one may say so) the ''underground'', real India, there is the same difference as between Russia in the novels by Dumas-père<ref>Dumas-father (Fr.). [https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alexandre_Dumas Alexandre Dumas] (1802-1870) – a famous and very prolific French writer,  the one of the most widely read French authors, mainly known for his historical novels of high adventure. – Ed.</ref> and the real ''Russian'' Russia.


The same road leads to the temple of the Parsee fire-worshippers. At its altar burns an unquenchable fire, which daily consumes poods<ref>''Pood'' (Rus. пуд) – a Russian unit of weight equal to approximately 36 pounds (16,38 kg). – Ed.</ref> of sandal wood and aromatic herbs. Lit three hundred years ago, the sacred fire has never been extinguished, notwithstanding many disorders, sectarian discords, and even wars. The Parsees are very proud of this temple of ''Zaratushta'', as they call Zoroaster. Compared with it the Hindu pagodas look like brightly painted Easter eggs. Generally they are consecrated to Hanuman, the monkey-god and the faithful ally of Rama, or to some other god, like the elephant headed Ganesha (the god of the occult wisdom), or to one of the Devis. You meet with these temples in every street. Before each there is a row of pipals (''Ficus religiosa'') centuries old, which no temple can dispense with, because these trees are the abode of the elementals and the sinful souls. All this is entangled, mixed, and scattered, appearing to one's eyes suddenly like a picture in a dream... Thirty centuries have left their representatives on these islands. The innate laziness and the strong conservative tendencies common to India, even before the European invasion, preserved all kinds of monuments from the ruinous vengeance of the fanatics, whether those memorials were Buddhist, or belonged to some other unpopular sect. The Hindus are not naturally given to senseless vandalism, and a phrenologist would vainly look for a bump of destructiveness on their skulls. If you meet with antiquities that, having been spared by time, are, nowadays, either destroyed or disfigured, it is not they who are to blame, but either Mussulmans, or the Portuguese under the guidance of the Jesuits.
The same road leads to the temple of the Parsi fire-worshippers. At its altar burns an unquenchable fire, which daily consumes poods<ref>''Pood'' (Rus. пуд) – a Russian unit of weight equal to approximately 36 pounds (16,38 kg). – Ed.</ref> of sandal wood and aromatic herbs. Lit three hundred years ago, the sacred fire has never been extinguished, notwithstanding many disorders, sectarian discords, and even wars. The Parsis are very proud of this temple of ''Zaratushta'', as they call Zoroaster. Compared with it the Hindu pagodas look like brightly painted Easter eggs. Generally they are consecrated to Hanuman, the monkey-god and the faithful ally of Rama, or to some other god, like the elephant headed Ganesha (the god of the occult wisdom), or to one of the Devis. You meet with these temples in every street. Before each there is a row of pipals (''Ficus religiosa'') centuries old, which no temple can dispense with, because these trees are the abode of the elementals and the sinful souls. All this is entangled, mixed, and scattered, appearing to one's eyes suddenly like a picture in a dream... Thirty centuries have left their representatives on these islands. The innate laziness and the strong conservative tendencies common to India, even before the European invasion, preserved all kinds of monuments from the ruinous vengeance of the fanatics, whether those memorials were Buddhist, or belonged to some other unpopular sect. The Hindus are not naturally given to senseless vandalism, and a phrenologist would vainly look for a bump of destructiveness on their skulls. If you meet with antiquities that, having been spared by time, are, nowadays, either destroyed or disfigured, it is not they who are to blame, but either Mussulmans, or the Portuguese under the guidance of the Jesuits.


The beauty of the Bombay Bay, however, does not compensate, from a strategic point of view, for the weak points of the port. These weak points, which, however, could be noticed by nobody but a specialist, are strangely indicated by the very Englishmen. And they talk about them with strangers, discuss them in newspapers, and even complain bitterly about them in their “guide-books.” So for example in the “Hand-Book of India” (1858, by Captain E. Eastweeck), the author starts a long discourse about the danger threatening England in the event of a hostile invasion of Bombay from the sea. This defect long noted by jealous owners of the country seems to keep them awake. Can the same thing that once was done with the Portuguese by the Mogul Admiral Sidi in 1690, who took Bombay fortress in a few hours, still be repeated in 1880? And can the great ''invincible'' nation, with more than a thousand cannons on the bastion of the Admiralty, on Mandavi-Bandar and other batteries be afraid of invasion? And however if to judge on the nation’s sons’ consciousness and their methods, they not only grieve, but also are constantly afraid of something. “What the heart thinks the tongue speaks.” Therefore, one must believe that this thorn stuck and still remains a thorn in the side of the British lion. Would you like to hear what they themselves speak about it. Not we sailed a hundred miles from Liverpool, as have already been devoted at the table, in all the weak points of Bombay port. “Our fort from the mainland can be strong,” says one captain, “but from the sea it is far from good. It is hard to imagine something more unprotected… besides, the narrow strait can likely hinder the enemy's fleet only in the mouth; and the fort castle of St. George, built by the Portuguese, reminds of single-walled, flat castles on the opera stage: it does not even have a good parapet. The fortress itself (the commercial part of the city) is not protected even by an ordinary wall. But then to the shores it is cluttered up with old, half ruined factories, mills and hastily built barns and private homes... At the first cannon shot our famous fort will collapse like a house of cards”, and so on.
The beauty of the Bombay Bay, however, does not compensate, from a strategic point of view, for the weak points of the port. These weak points, which, however, could be noticed by nobody but a specialist, are strangely indicated by the very Englishmen. And they talk about them with strangers, discuss them in newspapers, and even complain bitterly about them in their “guide-books.” So for example in the “Hand-Book of India” (1858, by Captain E. Eastweeck), the author starts a long discourse about the danger threatening England in the event of a hostile invasion of Bombay from the sea. This defect long noted by jealous owners of the country seems to keep them awake. Can the same thing that once was done with the Portuguese by the Mogul Admiral Sidi in 1690, who took Bombay fortress in a few hours, still be repeated in 1880? And can the great ''invincible'' nation, with more than a thousand cannons on the bastion of the Admiralty, on Mandavi-Bandar and other batteries be afraid of invasion? And however if to judge on the nation’s sons’ consciousness and their methods, they not only grieve, but also are constantly afraid of something. “What the heart thinks the tongue speaks.” Therefore, one must believe that this thorn stuck and still remains a thorn in the side of the British lion. Would you like to hear what they themselves speak about it. Not we sailed a hundred miles from Liverpool, as have already been devoted at the table, in all the weak points of Bombay port. “Our fort from the mainland can be strong,” says one captain, “but from the sea it is far from good. It is hard to imagine something more unprotected… besides, the narrow strait can likely hinder the enemy's fleet only in the mouth; and the fort castle of St. George, built by the Portuguese, reminds of single-walled, flat castles on the opera stage: it does not even have a good parapet. The fortress itself (the commercial part of the city) is not protected even by an ordinary wall. But then to the shores it is cluttered up with old, half ruined factories, mills and hastily built barns and private homes... At the first cannon shot our famous fort will collapse like a house of cards”, and so on.
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Meanwhile, at breakfast the same captain immediately tells about the superiority of the police system in their provinces: not a single Hindu can come from village to city even for one hour without immediately knowing about it in the secret police. They spy on every newcomer from one province to another, even if he were an Englishman. The people were not only divested of their weapons, but even deprived of the last axe and knife. The peasant has nothing to chop wood with, nor protect himself from the tiger. But the Anglo-Indians are still trembling. True, there are only 60,000 of them, while the native population totals up to 245 millions. And their system, adopted by them from skillful animal tamers, is only good until the beast senses that its tamer, in his turn, is a coward ... Then woe to him! In any case, such a constant display of chronic fear reveals only the consciousness of one's own weakness.
Meanwhile, at breakfast the same captain immediately tells about the superiority of the police system in their provinces: not a single Hindu can come from village to city even for one hour without immediately knowing about it in the secret police. They spy on every newcomer from one province to another, even if he were an Englishman. The people were not only divested of their weapons, but even deprived of the last axe and knife. The peasant has nothing to chop wood with, nor protect himself from the tiger. But the Anglo-Indians are still trembling. True, there are only 60,000 of them, while the native population totals up to 245 millions. And their system, adopted by them from skillful animal tamers, is only good until the beast senses that its tamer, in his turn, is a coward ... Then woe to him! In any case, such a constant display of chronic fear reveals only the consciousness of one's own weakness.


At last we were anchored and, in a moment, were besieged, ourselves as well as our luggage, by numbers of naked skeleton-like Hindus, Parsees, Moguls, and various other tribes. All this crowd emerged, as if from the bottom of the sea, and began to shout, to chatter, and to yell, as only the tribes of Asia can. To get rid of this Babel confusion of tongues as soon as possible, we took refuge in the first bunder boat<ref>Wellington pier (formerly known as Apollo Bunder) was an important site of transport to and from shore at the city of Bombay. – Ed.</ref> and made for the shore.
At last we were anchored and, in a moment, were besieged, ourselves as well as our luggage, by numbers of naked skeleton-like Hindus, Parsis, Moguls, and various other tribes. All this crowd emerged, as if from the bottom of the sea, and began to shout, to chatter, and to yell, as only the tribes of Asia can. To get rid of this Babel confusion of tongues as soon as possible, we took refuge in the first bunder boat<ref>Wellington pier (formerly known as Apollo Bunder) was an important site of transport to and from shore at the city of Bombay. – Ed.</ref> and made for the shore.


Once settled in the bungalow awaiting us, the first thing we were struck with in Bombay was the millions of crows and vultures. The former are, so to speak, the city refuse collectors, whose duty is to clean the streets, and to kill one of them is not only forbidden by the police, but would be very dangerous, because it would rouse the vengeance of every Hindu, who is always ready to offer his own life in exchange for a crow's. The souls of the sinful forefathers transmigrate into crows and to kill one is to interfere with the law of retribution and therefore to expose the poor ancestor to something still worse. Such is the firm belief, not only of Hindus, but of Parsees (even the most educated among them). The strange behaviour of the Indian crows (which will be described further) explains, to a certain extent, this superstition. The vultures are, in a way, the grave-diggers of the Parsees and are under the personal protection of the Farvardania, the angel of death, who soars over the Tower of Silence and manages the occupations of the feathered workmen. But let’s describe it later as well.
Once settled in the bungalow awaiting us, the first thing we were struck with in Bombay was the millions of crows and vultures. The former are, so to speak, the city refuse collectors, whose duty is to clean the streets, and to kill one of them is not only forbidden by the police, but would be very dangerous, because it would rouse the vengeance of every Hindu, who is always ready to offer his own life in exchange for a crow's. The souls of the sinful forefathers transmigrate into crows and to kill one is to interfere with the law of retribution and therefore to expose the poor ancestor to something still worse. Such is the firm belief, not only of Hindus, but of Parsis (even the most educated among them). The strange behaviour of the Indian crows (which will be described further) explains, to a certain extent, this superstition. The vultures are, in a way, the grave-diggers of the Parsis and are under the personal protection of the Farvardania, the angel of death, who soars over the Tower of Silence and manages the occupations of the feathered workmen. But let’s describe it later as well.


The deafening caw of the crows strikes every new comer as uncanny, but, after a while, is explained very simply. Every tree of the numerous coconut forests round Bombay is under government control, and there is a hollow pumpkin tied to the top. The sap of the tree drops into it and, after fermenting, becomes a most intoxicating beverage, known here as ''toddy''. The naked ''toddy-wallahs'' (generally Portuguese), modestly adorned, by the way, with a coral necklace, fetch this beverage twice a day, climbing the hundred and fifty feet high trunks like squirrels. The crows mostly build their nests on the tops of the coconut palms and drink incessantly out of the open pumpkins. The result of this is the chronic intoxication of the birds.  
The deafening caw of the crows strikes every new comer as uncanny, but, after a while, is explained very simply. Every tree of the numerous coconut forests round Bombay is under government control, and there is a hollow pumpkin tied to the top. The sap of the tree drops into it and, after fermenting, becomes a most intoxicating beverage, known here as ''toddy''. The naked ''toddy-wallahs'' (generally Portuguese), modestly adorned, by the way, with a coral necklace, fetch this beverage twice a day, climbing the hundred and fifty feet high trunks like squirrels. The crows mostly build their nests on the tops of the coconut palms and drink incessantly out of the open pumpkins. The result of this is the chronic intoxication of the birds.  
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