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 every time I heard his name and expecting to hear his cheery voice in response. Nobody could tell me why they called their servants 'boys.' It's like so many other things in India of which no one can tell you the why and wherefore. Things are there, and you've just got to take them as you find them. If you go and rout about trying to discover the reason why, you'll get looked at quite askance. Most people out there are content to live for years without ever attempting to lift the veil of mystery that hides the real India, and so they naturally resent it if a newcomer exhibits an inquiring turn of mind. And people don't like being asked questions that they can't answer. It's disconcerting, and it kinds of lowers you in your own estimation, and there's nothing more unforgivable than that. So when, the very first day I landed, I offended at least three people by asking them why they called their servants 'boy,' I began to feel that I was attempting to acquire knowledge at too great a cost, and gave it up. So I joined the throng, and called my servant boy.'

But it's really a ridiculous custom. Some one calls out 'Boy,' and up trots an old man with a white beard. You think there must be some mistake, and that he can't be 'boy,' yet the sahib shows no surprise at his appearance, and gives him the intended order quite casually. It doesn't matter how old you may be, you are doomed to be called 'boy' for the term of your natural life, if you happen to be born to that form of service. But the servant question hasn't yet arisen in the East