The Mother-lodge
The Mother-lodge - context Summary
Kipling's Indian Lodge Memories
Written from Kipling’s experience in colonial India, the poem presents a multicultural Masonic lodge where officers, servants, and men of many faiths meet as "Brother" and emphasize fellowship over caste and creed. It mixes everyday detail and affectionate nostalgia, recalling shared rituals, mess-room scenes, and travels bringing fraternal greetings across the empire. The piece reflects Kipling’s time in India and his interest in Freemasonry.
Read Complete AnalysesThere was Rundle, Station Master, An' Beazeley of the Rail, An' 'Ackman, Commissariat, An' Donkin' o' the Jail; An' Blake, Conductor-Sargent, Our Master twice was 'e, With 'im that kept the Europe-shop, Old Framjee Eduljee. Outside -- "Sergeant! Sir! Salute! Salaam!" Inside -- "Brother", an' it doesn't do no 'arm. We met upon the Level an' we parted on the Square, An' I was Junior Deacon in my Mother-Lodge out there! We'd Bola Nath, Accountant, An' Saul the Aden Jew, An' Din Mohammed, draughtsman Of the Survey Office too; There was Babu Chuckerbutty, An' Amir Singh the Sikh, An' Castro from the fittin'-sheds, The Roman Catholick! We 'adn't good regalia, An' our Lodge was old an' bare, But we knew the Ancient Landmarks, An' we kep' 'em to a hair; An' lookin' on it backwards It often strikes me thus, There ain't such things as infidels, Excep', per'aps, it's us. For monthly, after Labour, We'd all sit down and smoke (We dursn't give no banquits, Lest a Brother's caste were broke), An' man on man got talkin' Religion an' the rest, An' every man comparin' Of the God 'e knew the best. So man on man got talkin', An' not a Brother stirred Till mornin' waked the parrots An' that dam' brain-fever-bird; We'd say 'twas 'ighly curious, An' we'd all ride 'ome to bed, With Mo'ammed, God, an' Shiva Changin' pickets in our 'ead. Full oft on Guv'ment service This rovin' foot 'ath pressed, An' bore fraternal greetin's To the Lodges east an' west, Accordin' as commanded From Kohat to Singapore, But I wish that I might see them In my Mother-Lodge once more! I wish that I might see them, My Brethren black an' brown, With the trichies smellin' pleasant An' the hog-darn passin' down; [Cigar-lighter.] An' the old khansamah snorin' [Butler.] On the bottle-khana floor, [Pantry.] Like a Master in good standing With my Mother-Lodge once more! Outside -- "Sergeant! Sir! Salute! Salaam!" Inside -- "Brother", an' it doesn't do no 'arm. We met upon the Level an' we parted on the Square, An' I was Junior Deacon in my Mother-Lodge out there!
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