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Globalised
Indian
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by
Chandan Mitra
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Theoretically, if a hole is dug somewhere from the centre of India, say Nagpur, through the earth's core and a ball is dropped into it, the ball will pop up somewhere in the Gulf of Mexico. In other words, the Caribbean is literally on the other side of the globe from our country. It boggles the mind to think that nearly 170 years ago Indians shipped across the dreaded kala pani to these distant shores to clear dense rainforests and grow sugarcane. Travelling to Guyana and Trinidad & Tobago last week as part of the official delegation of the Vice-President, Mr Bhairon Singh Shekhawat, was a huge learning experience especially about the way the Indian diaspora has emerged as a powerful entity across the world. While they comprise 42 and 37 per cent of the population of Guyana and Trinidad & Tobago respectively, their influence on politics and economy of these two Commonwealth nations outstrips even their sizeable numerical prowess. Even more interesting is the way the people of Indian origin have, together with their African compatriots similarly dumped in these countries by colonial regimes, evolved a largely common culture and social idiom. Africans were brought to the Caribbean to work as slaves in sugarcane and other plantations in the 18th C, but after slavery was abolished, the need to replenish the labour force drove colonialists to other regions such as China and India. The Chinese failed to adjust to the hot, humid conditions and immigration petered out. They now number less than two per cent of the population. But despite the gruelling working conditions and the unlikelihood of ever returning to the mother country, Indians kept coming at least till 1915, when gathering tensions in Europe caused the British to call off the population transplant. By then, however, indentured labour from India had been lured or coaxed to settle in Crown colonies as far apart as Malaya, Fiji, Mauritius, and the Caribbean. Interestingly, Indian immigration is still commemorated in a big way in these countries. In Trinidad & Tobago, the anniversary, May 30, 1845 is marked by a public holiday, while in Guyana a memorial depicting the first ship, Whitby, which berthed near the capital, Georgetown, on May 5, 1838, has been erected in a prominently located city park. A rather startling discovery made during my brief sojourn in these parts was the difference between the British and Dutch approaches towards colonised people. Having been a votary of the British system of imperial order, which included training their erstwhile subjects for self-governance and democracy, I was dismayed to learn of the forcible methods used by them to snuff out all traces of Indian culture among the imported labourers. In Guyana virtually nobody speaks Hindi, barring a few determined old-timers such as a Minister in the present Government who is widely referred to as Panditji. Although the immigrant Indians doggedly stuck to their religious beliefs, erected temples and engaged the priestly class to conduct prayers at marriages and funerals, the mantras recited on such occasions nowadays are in English. I was told there has been a revival of Sanskrit mantras thanks to the communication revolution and the easy availability of cassettes and CDs of various Hindu incantations. However, even if the Gayatri, Mahamrityunjay and other popular mantras play on loudspeakers nobody quite understands them because they don't know even a smattering of Hindi. Leaders of both Indian and African origin in Guyana and Trinidad had equal difficulty pronouncing 'Bhairon' and 'Shekhawat' while addressing our Vice-President! On the other hand, in formerly Dutch-held Surinam, Guyana's immediate neighbour, Hindi thrives. This is because the Dutch, apparently more tolerant colonialists, did not force the immigrant population to abandon their language, culture or tradition. By the time the British launched their project to populate the tropical colonies with Indian indentured labour, missionary zeal was also more rampant in Britain than ever before. Consequently, colonial laws expressly prohibited the appointment to civil service of any person who did not profess the Christian faith. In the early 20th Century, when second generation Indian immigrants looked for options outside labouring on sugarcane plantations, they realised their upward mobility would be blocked unless they converted. Clearly, had the 1857 Uprising not happened, when people took to arms to protect their faith, the British would have tried to enforce similar decrees in India too. The idea that the Dutch were in some senses, more benign colonialists, certainly came as a bit of a shock. While culturally, there has been considerable integration at the popular level between calypso and chutney (a hybrid variety of Indian music in these parts), political tensions are palpable both in Guyana and Trinidad & Tobago, more in the latter. The Indian-dominated United National Congress of T&T is currently claimed to be suffering some persecution at the hands of the ruling African-dominated political formation, although Indians occupy prominent positions in the ruling establishment here just as Africans do in the Indian-led People's Progressive Party regime in Guyana. Under the dynamic leadership of two-term President Bharrat Jagdeo, Guyana appears more socially cohesive in comparison. In Trinidad & Tobago, former Prime Minister Basudeo Pandey was arrested recently allegedly on a flimsy charge of not disclosing a particular bank account. His UNC party has since split into two with Ms Kamla Bisessar, Leader of the Opposition - a division UNC leaders blame on the ruling party's policies. India's role in the Caribbean requires careful modulation keeping local sensitivities in mind. Despite the huge disconnect both in time and space, the immigrant community here proudly holds on to its Indian roots. Several leaders have visited India in recent years and insisted on travelling to the village in UP or Bihar to which their ancestors belonged. While Mr Jagdeo went to see his relatives in a village near Amethi in 2003, Mr Pandey travelled to Azamgarh some years ago. An interesting sidelight of the former T&T Prime Minister's visit was the aggressive reassertion of caste identity by the villagers. They put up posters felicitating "Basudeo Pandey (Ahir)" reminding everyone that mere adoption of a title did not entitle him to become a Brahmin! Mr Pandey, I distinctly recall, made light of the apparent slight claiming he had no idea of his caste but had heard that people entrusted to serve water to fellow passengers on immigrant-laden ships were nicknamed "Paani-de" (water-giver), a term that got subsequently corrupted to the more common Pandey! Indeed, as part of the British assault on Indian culture and social organisation, caste was an obvious casualty. However, as Trinidad & Tobago's young, erudite High Commissioner to India, Maniedeo Persad, explained to me during the State Banquet at Port-of-Spain, Brahmins (like him) have firmly stuck to their ritual practices and caste still counts with the community in marriages. He, for instance, remains a strict vegetarian does not touch eggs - a tough job in a region where meat and fish rule the roast, literally. Courtesy: www.dailypioneer.com, November 12, 2006 |