The name Jim Corbett conjures up images of a trigger-happy hunter out to wipe out man-eating tigers from the face of the earth. One picks up a Corbett book anticipating the thrill and the attendant suspense associated with the confrontation between two deadly opponents: the man and the beast. "My India" however, is a deviation from the usual pattern as Corbett makes the common and poor men of India his subject, although the pleasant sensation and suspense of the hunting books do not subside a bit here.Jim Corbett, whose forefathers had come to India from Britain to serve the empire, worked in the railways. For 21 years he handled transshipment of goods at Mokameh Ghat on river Ganga, in North Bihar, on a contract from railways. This period coincided with the most formative years of Jim's life. The humanist, the adventurer and the artist in him found the best nourishing ground at this picturesque and busy place. Jim also lived at Kaladhungi village near Nainital with his sister Maggie. Their cottage, nestling `at a cross-roads at the foot of the hills and on the border line between the cultivated land and the forest' provided Jim with another vantage point to observe human nature closely. The autobiographical "My India" weaves together many anecdotes involving Corbett's fellow workers, his living quarters in Mokameh Ghat and Kaladhungi and his adventures into the wild. These personal accounts are awash with his deep understanding of and sympathy for the poor men of India, to whom the book has been dedicated.
`In my India', Corbett writes in his dedication, `there are four hundred million people, ninety per cent of whom are simple, honest, brave, loyal, hard-working souls whose daily prayer to God, and to whatever Government is in power, is to give them security of life and property to enable them to enjoy the fruits of their labours.' These qualities, most of which he himself possessed, attracted Corbett to the multitude.
The keen observer that Corbett was never fails to see a single act of bravery or honesty among his people. In `The Brothers' he recounts a tale of great human courage and compassion, which characterizes the people he loved. A young man pulls his severely mauled brother from the clutch of an attacking tiger and drags and carries him miles together in hilly terrain for safety and medical attention.
If you are looking for the heart-stopping suspense of the hunting stories, "My Story" has plenty to offer. In the last piece, `Life at Mokameh Ghat' one reads with bated breath, Corbett's description of an encounter with an angry cobra in his small bathroom in complete darkness. `So here I was shut in a small dark room with one of the most deadly snakes in India.' Corbett survives the ordeal in the end, and runs out of the house to rejoice with the crowd that had gathered, only to realize that he `had no clothes on.'
"My Story" is full of life's vivid sketches painted with care, sympathy and large-hearted humour: the hallmarks of Carpet Saheb, as Jim was known among his poor Indian admirers. A must-read for anyone interested in north Indian life during the dying years of British Raj.
