Partition Stories

I started this blog after an increased interest in my family history.  I wanted to write something a bit different to the ‘how to’ family history blogs.  Lately my posts have taken a different turn, according to how I have been feeling about the world in general.  However, my own family history is particularly relevant at the moment.  And in a far more direct way than usual.  It is seventy years this week since Partition in India.

This anniversary has led to a flurry of articles and documentaries, many of which are making use of testimony from the dwindling number of eye witnesses.  These testimonies have attested to the previous reluctance to discuss what happened during Partition.  But over a million people died and at least fifteen million were displaced. Due to arbitrary lines drawn on maps by the escaping British.

My own paternal family were (are) Anglo-Indian, as mentioned on previous posts.  Their community existed on the fringes of ‘real’ British society.  Mostly Christian, mostly European-dressed but not white, they had developed their own way of life.  (The photo, which has appeared on this blog before, is of my grandmother - in white - at school.)  Their numbers were substantial at this point.  A distant relation of mine, Sir Henry Gidney, had even managed to represent them at the independence negotiations in the Thirties.

But when Independence actually came and Partition happened, the British had little sense of what was about to be unleashed.  The terror, the violence, the frantic movement of millions of people.

Anglo-Indians were endangered by their positions as ‘assistants’ to the British.  But on a day to day basis, they were endangered simply by having to live in a country where random and terrible violence could break out at any time.  Watch some of the documentaries currently on iPlayer and you get a glimpse of hell. 

Some of my family left almost immediately.  My grandfather stuck it out until 1949, two years after Partition.  But then he upped sticks and took flight remarkably quickly.  He, my grandmother, her mother and brother and my father were all on a ship within days of being caught in a riot, by all accounts.  Presumably, in waiting, he had had the relative luxury, not afforded to so many, of being able to plan a little as regards money.  They were not supposed to take much out of the country.  I don't know if he planned the destination but since his sister-in-law was already in the UK, it seems there was a choice not to join his own parents and siblings in New Zealand.

Since my father subsequently married an English girl, I clearly have reason to be grateful for this move.  Who would wish themselves from existence after all?  But in reading the many accounts being published at the moment, I can see that my family were terribly fortunate in many ways.  Although I am sure, in leaving everything they had ever known, it didn’t feel that way.  Their lives in India were comfortable and their position was one of relative privilege in some ways, despite the discrimination and resentment against them.

Partition is a word which has been used thoughtlessly for seventy years now.  It makes it sound like it was a kind of natural phenomenon that a country was summarily split by civil servants.  And as the current wave of comment is finally admitting, the event is still not given the notice or importance that should be attached to it.  Younger generations are barely aware - if at all - that Pakistan is only seventy years old.  You could wonder, for example, how much the arbitrary agreement to  Muslim state in India has contributed ever since to the ideas of Caliphate which fuel Islamic extremists.  If it could happen there, why not elsewhere?  State sponsored religious sectarianism, anyone?

I hope you will take the time to read or watch some of the anniversary pieces.  And take a moment to explain it to your children.  Independence was long overdue but its accomplishment was an appalling example of the kind of governmental arrogance and gung ho which still exists in our world today.  The actions of these ‘players’  reverberate amongst ordinary people for generations.  Just ask those desperate people still trying to escape across the Mediterranean.

Beat the Uncertainty

Every day at the moment seems to bring some new hit of bad news or prediction of future problems.  It feels almost overwhelming.  India Knight wrote recently in The Sunday Times that Strictly Come Dancing was providing her with the only light relief to be had at the moment.  All sequins and sparkle and fluff but she would take her respite from the news where she could get it.  And I quite agree.

Sometimes I long for a time travelling device.  I have always wanted to go to the past before now, should I get such a machine.  But now I just want the US election over, Brexit done in whatever manner.  The uncertainty is horrendous.  I want to visit, say, 2020 and just check what has happened.  So I can mentally prepare myself and my family for whatever is going to happen over the next four drawn out years.  To say nothing of knowing what has taken place in the Middle East, Russia, etc.

Normally I say to my children that they should not be wishing time away.  And I do still stand by that mantra.  We should live in the moment and enjoy life to the best of our ability.  Enjoy the small pleasures.  The trouble at the moment is, it is increasingly hard to enjoy the small things when such huge beyond-our-control decisions loom over us.  Booking a holiday?  Oh, well it might cost you twice as much as you thought by the time it comes round but hey, that's Brexit-land for you.  

And it is not just the small pleasures.  It is the everyday life decisions which are being affected.  Education, employment, future finances, care for the elderly, the health service.  Thanks to the selfish decisions made by arrogant politicians, our country has been thrown into indecision and chaos.  And it is worsening day by day.

I have often wondered what it was like for my family in India during the time preceding Partition.  The uncertainty, that is.  Partition led to one of the biggest mass movements of people ever seen and also to horrifying violence.  Its 'design' was mainly based on decisions by ill-informed, arrogant politicians and civil servants.  Sounding familiar?

Sick of the uncertainty as I am though, I do actually believe it is vital to remain engaged in what is going on, no matter how painful.  There is little political opposition of worth in the UK at present.  It is up to all of us therefore to keep up the pressure for transparency (and common sense!).  Much as it is tempting to sink in the mire of bad news, we should be making our voices heard as loudly as we possibly can rather than admitting defeat.

A New Life and New Chores

 

 

Today I was listening to Woman's Hour on BBC Radio 4.  I am not a daily disciple of Woman's Hour.  I don't know why as I usually enjoy it when I do listen.  Anyway, today was the start of a week of discussions about the results of a survey on household chores "division of labour".  Who does what in the home in the twenty first century, that sort of thing.  It has been conducted jointly with Mumsnet, as those who have logged onto my blog via Mumsnet will undoubtedly be aware. 

 http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/articles/4xsS4Nqzhn21v52xYdMPQqJ/womans-hour-chore-wars  will take you to the interactive pages.  You can find the programme on BBC iPlayer.

My own division of household labour seems to be fairly typical (me doing most of it, swinging from happy to have the option to be at home with kids to resentment at said kids and their father for taking advantage of me!) and I don't propose to add to the debate which this survey has started.  [See today's Guardian, for example.]  There will be plenty in the media as the week of programmes progresses.

As usual though, I found myself wondering how the debate would apply in times past.  We all know that, for example, marriage in the 1950s meant women mainly giving up work outside the home and devoting themselves to house and family.  And before the advent of modern labour saving devices, housewife duties were hard work.  I cannot bear to think how I would cope with the washing that my household generates and no washing machine.  A day without it, if it has a breakdown, induces near hysteria about the building clothing mountain!

However, the thought that caught me with regard to my own ancestors was my paternal grandmother's entry into British society in the 1940s and 1950s.  She, my grandfather and father along with her own mother and her disabled brother arrived from India in 1949.  They came from a hot country to a British "summer".  But more to the point, they came from a relatively easy lifestyle, with domestic help such as an ayah to look after my toddler father.  See the sideways picture above! [I have tried every which way to sort this and have not given up, sorry!  Previous readers of my blog will be aware of my dodgy IT skills...]

They were grateful to be away from the rioting and bloodshed in the aftermath of the Partition of India, I'm sure.  But it must have been more than daunting to arrive to a small terraced house in Coventry with few belongings and little furniture.  No help and no idea of how daily life in a grimy British city went on.

I am sure this is not how my grandmother envisaged married life progressing when she married my grandfather in 1943.  Of course, no one who suffers great setbacks in life ever envisages them - or such set backs would never actually happen; our lives would continue exactly as we would wish if we had crystal ball style technology!

I know that my father has memories of using crates to sit on at their first house.  I also know that within months of their arrival in the UK, my grandfather was sent abroad to work.  He did not return again for almost a year, I believe.  So my grandmother set up home in England and learnt how to run it with little help and with a toddler into everything.  Little division of labour there!

No washing machine, probably no fridge to start with, no central heating equals a lot of labour.  Makes me feel guilty at complaining about my own chores.  In fact, perhaps we should wonder how, given the amount of labour-saving devices we have these days, our chores do not seem to have diminished...

My father having been so little at the time and me not having had the presence of mind to ask such questions when my grandmother was alive, I have no idea how she managed for cash.  She was always someone who prided herself on keeping up appearances though so I can imagine that she and my father were as well turned out as possible, even if, unbeknownst to neighbours, they were sitting on orange boxes and eating baked beans!

I am proud to think of what they achieved.  They followed that well worn immigrant path and managed to establish themselves in a new country and culture.  Fairly sure, though, that the division of home labour was non existent!

Into the Unknown

This ship is the SS Strathaird.  It is shown on a postcard sent by my great aunt to my grandfather as she and her family left India forever in December 1948 - on this very ship.  Their parents, siblings and friends were also leaving.  My grandfather lasted for another six months in the increasing chaos and violence of the Partition of India before he too booked passage for his family.  They were Anglo Indian - mixed race Christians abandoned by the British administration.

As discussed in yesterday's post, we now live in a world where we can see and hear about events all over the world.  We can watch amazing sporting achievements, royal weddings and Hollywood ceremonies as they happen.  Sadly we can also see bombs falling, people dying, refugees fleeing and any number of other terrible events.

I am currently reading India Summer: The Secret History of the End of an Empire by Alex von Tunzelmann1.  I wanted to start to have some understanding of the events which drove my family to leave their home of many generations to start new lives in countries which were completely alien to them.

The more I read about Partition, the more outraged I have become.  Not even particularly on behalf of my own Anglo-Indian relatives.  Just generally outraged for all involved (well, my nickname at college was Millie Tant...!).

At the end of May 1947, the British government - struggling against a tide of debt and misery in the wake of the 1945 peace - approved a plan which would carve up India and create a new country - Pakistan.  On 3 June, this plan was announced to the leaders of the many factions involved - the Hindu dominated Congress, the Muslim League, the Sikhs, the Anglo Indians, the many rulers of princely states, etc.  And at that meeting it was sprung upon them that Britain would be handing over power on 15 August 1947.  Not June 1948 as everybody had thought.  In just ten weeks time the British were expecting two new governments to have been created to govern two huge states, each with massive mixed and volatile populations.

It seems quite incredible that the British government got away with this.  Indian Summer details the fear of outside influence from the US, Russia, China and others; the concern about Pakistan becoming a focal point for an increasing hegemony of Islamists; the worries about the strategic position of Afghanistan and the ambitions of its rulers.  Is this all sounding horribly familiar?

We all watch rolling news broadcasts of wars and refugees.  My family were luckier than most that we see in, say, Syria.  They had British passports already; they had European lifestyles. They left with nothing though.  My grandfather ended up in Coventry simply because he had met one British man in the same line of trade (telecoms) and he had his business card.  Two of my great aunts went to New Zealand followed by my great grandparents.  To my knowledge, my grandfather never saw his parents again, although they did not die until at least twenty years later.

This post is not about the rights and wrongs of immigration; it is about how the human stories get lost in sweeping generalisations made by governments.  It was right that India was given independence.  It was not right to think that such a delicate operation could be carried out in ten weeks.  

 

1. India Summer: The Secret History of the End of an Empire - Alex von Tunzelmann (Simon&Schuster 2007; Pocket Books 2008)