Sons and sepoys

An elderly Indian father, desperately searching for his two missing sons embarked on a fateful sea journey of no return when he crossed the “kala pani” or black waters. With a pair of seasoned sepoys from the First Anglo-Burmese War, he was among the 167 diverse passengers of the sailing ship, the “Hesperus,” who mistakenly believed they were headed to the Indian Ocean island of Mauritius in 1838.

Instead, like many hopefuls in the 80-year-old saga of indentureship they had been lured with false promises, ending up disillusioned, broke and trapped on the wrong outgoing vessel headed for a tough trans-oceanic journey to the far side of the world and another distinct colony British Guiana (B.G), which was more than three times the Calcutta-Mauritius distance or 11,000 miles away. Cut off from his homeland and alone in a strange place, with no immediate hope of returning to the remainder of his worried family, the determined, then devastated patriarch died on a notorious sugar estate shortly after arrival on the Guiana coast, unmourned and dumped in an anonymous grave, his noble quest still unfulfilled, and all questions and answers about the fate of his offspring lost forever in the unseen mud, mists and mountains of Mauritius.

These men were among the so-called “Gladstone Coolies” of “young, active, able-bodied people” ordered by the influential Scotsman, John Gladstone, the permanent absentee but wealthy West Indies-sugar plantation owner and former British Member of Parliament. One of Gladstone’s four sons, probably the eldest Thomas, helped him craft the letter requesting the Calcutta mercantile trading firm of which they were patrons, Gillanders, Arbuthnot and Company, run by a relative, to organise and source the two introductory batches of workers, for several estates on the South American mainland affected by the abolition of African-sourced slavery and the impending end of the successor apprenticeship scheme…..


The shape of water   

It was still stuffy when the 22 men stealthily set off for the swift-moving river, slinking among the shadows in single file and silence late one Monday night, as they sought to spot snatches of the water through the bushes in the sickly light of a slivered moon.

By ,

A father and fleas

For nearly four long months aboard the crammed “Whitby” the two little girls precariously hung on to life, as grown men groaned, suffered and died in the low, dark deck of the sailing ship.

The tides of time

These days, the impatient visitors stream through on noisy trains and tour buses, scanning the horizon and stopping for quick refreshments at the rest-houses that line the Indian coast.

By ,

 A breath of fresh air

In Indian legends he is the much-loved baby, Bala Krishna, the holy, curly-haired child with huge eyes and a prankish passion for fresh milk, sweet cream and smooth butter.

By ,

From Lucknow to Moor Farm

The salt air, sea winds and ever-stronger spring tides sweep in from the swirling Atlantic sliding through the thick bushes and around the tall coconut trees that have taken over the long perished plantations.

Your browser is out-of-date!

Update your browser to view this website correctly.

We built using new technology. This makes our website faster, more feature rich and easier to use for 95% of our readers.
Unfortunately, your browser does not support some of these technologies. Click the button below and choose a modern browser to receive our intended user experience.

Update my browser now