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The significance of a monument that honors the sacrifice of the unsung, heroic pioneers, Indians of the Diaspora, cannot be fully realized without a glimpse into the heart of their experience and the residual fragrance of the indelibly printed memories they shared with their descendants.
There is still a yearning among most Indians of the Diaspora to fill that void that was created by indenture ship; that severe fracture in the continuity of the social life of the descendants of those who ventured out of the motherland : Mother India, across to unknown and distant territories. What is the emotional connection with India? What would this tangible fixture of recognition mean to the Indian child in Trinidad, Guyana, Surinam, Jamaica, Fiji or Mauritius who carry in the memory of every cell a deep connection to India?
The descendants of the indentured workers even as they continue to influence and be influenced by the milieu wherever they have found themselves continue to maintain that common core of traditions that can be likened unto a common denominator among all Indians. In fact ,in some instances, the Indians of the Diaspora have so jealously guarded their traditions which they see as an integral part of their identity especially in the Arts that while some of these forms have been lost in India they persist in the Diaspora. It is impossible to separate the individual from his or her culture, which though dynamic and changing all the time maintains a core component upon which variations are added in a layered formation influenced by geographic as well as sociological acculturation.
It is only in the late seventies and early eighties that some literature began circulating regarding the journey from India to the Caribbean and the Indo Caribbean experience, for example. There was The Caribbean Review in Canada with Frank Birbalsingh. Dr Brinsley Samaroo started writing and publishing in Trinidad and Hansib Publications in London with David Dabydeen and his colleagues became more active. A History of Indians in Guyana written by Dwarkanath , one of the early books on this subject as it related to Guyana was little circulated or even known and certainly could not be found in book stores. A complete library to conduct research on this subject still does not exist anywhere in the world. The Mahatma Gandhi Institute in Mauritius has some precious records, the India library in London also has some records,Guyana has a historic collection that pertains to its own population. Trinidad has a small museum and a monument. Hyderabad has again some records but nowhere on the planet is there one complete storehouse for thorough research and understanding. The erection of this storehouse is long overdue and will unquestionably have long and far reaching historic value.
Validation, recognition , gratitude , solidarity, and appreciation, are just a few of the connections I make when I think of a monument honoring the indentured worker who left close to 200 years ago from India for work in what we call today the Indian Diaspora. The meaning of India’s collaboration with her distant sons and daughters, descendants of the indentured laborers to have a monument; a permanent declaration of worthiness of these precious pioneers cannot be fully processed if not placed in the sentimental context of the experience of these families.
I recall my grand father, Ramawad Ramadhin, at sunset dressed in a dhoti and white, short sleeved, cotton T shirt with a separate cotton towel in his hand (his angosha) to shoo the mosquitoes away gathering around his grand children for “kheesa time”. He told us short stories from the Ramayana, stories his father told him about life in India, and little anecdotes about Indian customs and values. I listened and drew an imaginary canvas of the shapes, figures, colors, aromas and scenes that were so different from the shapes, colors and scenes I actually saw years later when I took my first trip to India. The aromas were less fragrant, even pungent but the poetry was powerful. An unforgettable moment for me, was being awakened early one morning while I was taking an overnight train journey. The melodious voice that was approaching from the other end of the train carriage stood finally in front of me as a broken, dilapidated canvas – that beautiful voice that was befitting of a stately prince was encased in the shabby, dirty rags of a blind beggar led by a young, out of this world beautiful six year old girl also in dirty, shabby rags. That was my first trip to India, my first attempt with a few letters in my hand to find my long lost family. phe significance of a monument that honors the sacrifice of the unsung, heroic pioneers, Indians of the Diaspora, cannot be fully realized without a glimpse into the heart of their experience and the residual fragrance of the indelibly printed memories they shared with their descendants.
There is still a yearning among most Indians of the Diaspora to fill that void that was created by indenture ship; that severe fracture in the continuity of the social life of the descendants of those who ventured out of the motherland : Mother India, across to unknown and distant territories. What is the emotional connection with India? What would this tangible fixture of recognition mean to the Indian child in Trinidad, Guyana, Surinam, Jamaica, Fiji or Mauritius who carry in the memory of every cell a deep connection to India?
The descendants of the indentured workers even as they continue to influence and be influenced by the milieu wherever they have found themselves continue to maintain that common core of traditions that can be likened unto a common denominator among all Indians. In fact ,in some instances, the Indians of the Diaspora have so jealously guarded their traditions which they see as an integral part of their identity especially in the Arts that while some of these forms have been lost in India they persist in the Diaspora. It is impossible to separate the individual from his or her culture, which though dynamic and changing all the time maintains a core component upon which variations are added in a layered formation influenced by geographic as well as sociological acculturation.
It is only in the late seventies and early eighties that some literature began circulating regarding the journey from India to the Caribbean and the Indo Caribbean experience, for example. There was The Caribbean Review in Canada with Frank Birbalsingh. Dr Brinsley Samaroo started writing and publishing in Trinidad and Hansib Publications in London with David Dabydeen and his colleagues became more active. A History of Indians in Guyana written by Dwarkanath , one of the early books on this subject as it related to Guyana was little circulated or even known and certainly could not be found in book stores. A complete library to conduct research on this subject still does not exist anywhere in the world. The Mahatma Gandhi Institute in Mauritius has some precious records, the India library in London also has some records,Guyana has a historic collection that pertains to its own population. Trinidad has a small museum and a monument. Hyderabad has again some records but nowhere on the planet is there one complete storehouse for thorough research and understanding. The erection of this storehouse is long overdue and will unquestionably have long and far reaching historic value.
Validation, recognition , gratitude , solidarity, and appreciation, are just a few of the connections I make when I think of a monument honoring the indentured worker who left close to 200 years ago from India for work in what we call today the Indian Diaspora. The meaning of India’s collaboration with her distant sons and daughters, descendants of the indentured laborers to have a monument; a permanent declaration of worthiness of these precious pioneers cannot be fully processed if not placed in the sentimental context of the experience of these families.
I recall my grand father, Ramawad Ramadhin, at sunset dressed in a dhoti and white, short sleeved, cotton T shirt with a separate cotton towel in his hand (his angosha) to shoo the mosquitoes away gathering around his grand children for “kheesa time”. He told us short stories from the Ramayana, stories his father told him about life in India, and little anecdotes about Indian customs and values. I listened and drew an imaginary canvas of the shapes, figures, colors, aromas and scenes that were so different from the shapes, colors and scenes I actually saw years later when I took my first trip to India. The aromas were less fragrant, even pungent but the poetry was powerful. An unforgettable moment for me, was being awakened early one morning while I was taking an overnight train journey. The melodious voice that was approaching from the other end of the train carriage stood finally in front of me as a broken, dilapidated canvas – that beautiful voice that was befitting of a stately prince was encased in the shabby, dirty rags of a blind beggar led by a young, out of this world beautiful six year old girl also in dirty, shabby rags. That was my first trip to India, my first attempt with a few letters in my hand to find my long lost
family.
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