or sherbet and smoke the Persian or Indian pipe. Baluchis and Makranis
wander into the ghi and flour shops and purchase sufficient to hand over to
the baker, who daily prepares their bread for them; the "panseller" sings
the virtue of his wares in front of the cook-shop; the hawkers--the Daudi
Bohra of "zari purana" fame, the Kathiawar Memon, the Persian "pashmak-
seller" crying "Phul mitai" (flower sweets), start forth upon their daily
pilgrimage; while in the centre of the thoroughfare the "reckla," the
landau, the victoria and the shigram bear their owners towards the
business quarters of the city. "Mera churan mazedar uso khate hain,
sirdar," and past you move a couple of drug-sellers, offering a word
of morning welcome to their friend the Attar (perfumer) from the Deccan;
while above your head the balconies are gradually filling with the mothers
and children of the city, playing, working, talking and watching the human
panorama unfold before their eyes.

[Illustration: A Koli woman.]

So the morning passes into mid-day, amid a hundred sounds symbolical of the
various phases of life in the Western capital,--the shout of the driver,
the twang of the cotton-cleaner, the warning call of the anxious mother,
the rattle of the showman's drum, the yell of the devotee, the curse of the
cartman, the clang of the coppersmith, the chaffering of buyer and seller
and the wail of the mourner. And above all the roar of life broods the echo
of the call to prayer in honour of Allah, the All-Powerful and All-Pitiful,
the Giver of Life and Giver of Death.

* * * * *

EVENING.