It is not by any means always the strongest who wins. The man who
knows the most paenches, who is agile, active, cool, and careful, will
not unfrequently overthrow an antagonist twice his weight and
strength. All the wrestlers in the country-side know each other's
qualifications pretty accurately, and at a general match got up by a
Zemindar or planter, or by public subscription, it is generally safe
to let them handicap the men who are ready to compete for the prizes.
We used generally to put down a few of the oldest professors, and let
them pit couples against each other; the sport to the onlookers was
most exciting. Between the men themselves as a rule, the utmost good
humour reigns, they strive hard to win, but they accept a defeat with
smiling resignation. It is only between rival village champions,
different caste men, or worse still, men of differing religions, such
as a Hindoo and a Mahommedan, that there is any danger of a fight. A
disturbance is a rare exception, but I have seen a few wrestling
matches end in a regular general scrimmage, with broken heads, and
even fractured limbs. With good management however, and an efficient
body of men to guard against a breach of the peace, this need never
occur.

It rarely takes much trouble to get up a match. If you tell your head
men that you would like to see one, say on a Saturday afternoon, they
pass the word to the different villages, and at the appointed time,
all the finest young fellows and most of the male population, led by
their head man, with the old trainer in attendance, are at the
appointed place. The competitors are admitted within the enclosure,
and round it the rows of spectators packed twenty deep squat on the
ground, and watch the proceedings with deep interest.