178 A HINDU FESTIVAL 



have donned clean white jackets. Beyond that 

 they will not go, contemning effeminacy. 



About nine o'clock, when the sun is now well up, 

 the distant sound of a tom-tom is heard, and the 

 first of the returning fleet of muchwas appears at 

 the mouth of the creek. A long line of red and 

 white flags extends from the top of the mainyard 

 to the helm and streamers flutter from the mast- 

 heads. A monster bouquet of marigolds is mounted 

 on the bowsprit, branches of trees are stuck about 

 in all possible situations, and three or four large 

 fishes hang from the bow, trailing their tails in the 

 water. With the exception of the man at the helm, 

 who sits stolid, minding his business, and one youth 

 who plays the tom-tom, the crew are standing in a 

 ring, gesticulating with their arms and legs, or 

 waving wands and branches of trees. Some have 

 half of their faces smeared with red paint. If a 

 boat passes they greet it with a shout and a sally 

 of wit or ribaldry. The other muchwas follow close 

 behind, with every inch of white sail spread and all 

 a-flutter with flags and streamers : it would be diffi- 

 cult to imagine a prettier spectacle, and the tom- 

 toming and the happiness beaming on the faces of 

 the crews are almost infectious. One feels almost 

 compelled to wave one's hat and cry, " Hip, hip, 

 hooray ! " 



The boats come to shore, and then there ought 

 to be a tumbling out of the silvery harvest and a 

 gathering of women and a strife indescribable of 



