My India

My India is Corbett's India comprising of the poor of India who represented the great soul of the country. The essays in the book are about the persons that Corbett came in contact with during his young days and his days as a transhipment inspector with the railways - that chiefly consisted of the loyal labourers with the heart of gold, who varied in caste and creed, poverty and utter poverty, but working and enjoying their responsibilities harmoniously, That Corbett loved these simple souls is apparent in every paragraph of the book that dwells on the life of the poorest of India under the British Raj and under the oppression of the money lenders whose extreme high rates of interest overburdened the people so as to pass it along their generations. There is also reference to the cholera infested people of the neighbourhood whose only hope sometimes were the untiring sympathy of the villagers and the simple remedies offered by Corbett himself. He marvels at the innocence of simple Indians whose belief in faith is so strong that they do not care for infections and tend to the dying with sincerity on the firm belief that when the call from Providence comes they have to leave but before that no disease can be infectious enough to kill them while they are caring those in need. Days of hardships among these hardworking beings becomes bearable as the master with his hands shares the crisis in one situation when fund for salaries dries up from headquarters yet the people never lose hope for a time. Throughout the book, Corbett has marvelled on the simple life of the poo in India whose truthfulness orginates from the simple life they lead without expecting more than his day's worth of work. But beyond that another reality emerges which is the humility of this great man. It is very apparent that his people loved him. This is not due to the fact of the colour of his skin, but for his sense of responsibility to the persons who looked on him and his sister. That Corbett was as much British as he was Indian is very apparent from the title of the book itself. His unfaltered love for the poor of India and his duties towards them sets him apart from many. Through his eyes we can oberve an India hitherto hidden from us through the artificiality of urban life. That the poor of India, economically deprived, is devoid of greed, never for once forget a good deed done to them is apparent from the way they always look forward to repay his well wisher in the best way possible with their simple means and becomes his staunch ally, no matter what happens. Corbett also marvels at the mutual respect his workers, coming from various religions, castes, show each other that it actually becomes a harmonious unit that cares a little when a lower caste is casted a headman of a unit comprising of people from all other creeds. Corbett shows us India that we forget in the artificiality of the apparently modern age but that actually shapes the soul of this great nation through ages.