“Horsemanship and physical fitness were the only gods he knew. The stamp of hooves on the maidan, the strong poised feeling of his body, wedded centaur-like to the saddle, the polo-stick springy in his hand-these were his religion, the breath of his life. The Europeans in Burma-boozing, womanizing, yellow-faced loafers-made him physically sick when he thought of their habits. As for social duties of all descriptions, he called them poodle faking and ignored them. Women he abhorred. In his view they were a kind of siren whose one aim was to lure men away from polo and enmesh them in tea-fights and tennis parties.
Of course, like all sons of rich families, he thought poverty disgusting and that poor people are poor because they prefer disgusting habits.”
George Orwell, “Burmese Days”, 1935.
A Bird's Eye View of Fashion, Food, Travel, Culture, Beverage and Curiosity 