DECEMBER 



Striped squirrels raced ; the mynas perked and pricked, 



The seven sisters chattered in the thorn, 



The pied fish-tiger hung above the pool, 



The egrets stalked among the buffaloes, 



The kites sailed circles in the golden air ; 



About the painted temple peacocks flew. 



ARNOLD, The Light of Asia. 



IN the eyes of the Englishman December in 

 Northern India is a month of halcyon days, 

 of days dedicated to sport under perfect 

 climatic conditions, of bright sparkling days 

 spent at the duck tank, at the snipe jhil, in 

 the sal forest, or among the Siwaliks, days on 

 which office files rest in peace, and the gun, 

 the rifle and the rod are made to justify their 

 existence. Most Indians, unfortunately, hold 

 a different opinion of December. These love 

 not the cool wind that sweeps across the plains. 

 To them the rapid fall of temperature at 

 sunset is apt to spell pneumonia. 



The average villager is a hot-weather 

 organism. He is content with thin cotton 



189 



