Francis Xavier

Guns fell silent on the Western Front at 11 o’clock on the 11^th day of the 11^th month of 1918, marking the end to the First World War, one of the bloodiest in the history of mankind.  An Armistice was signed between the Allies and Germany to stop all hostilities on the Western Front, coining the term “All quiet on the Western Front”.  However, hostilities continued on other fronts for another two years.

In terms of human casualties the First World War remains the greatest ever, reaping a grim harvest of roughly eight million lives.  During a battle at Somme on 1^st July 1916 Britain suffered 58,000 dead and injured, making it a record for battlefield casualties on a single day. The real figures remain unknown as maintaining systematic records was not possible due to the magnitude of the war and the poor communications at that time.

November 11, 2016 will mark the 100^th anniversary of the end of the Great War — “The War to End All Wars”, as it was then called.

At least 15 lakh Indian soldiers fought in the First World War.  The number of those who died varies from 43,000 to 65,000.  Most of the dead lie buried where they fell, mainly in the trenches on the various fronts where they fought.  The touching letters from Indian soldiers on the front reveal the hardships they faced, with very little hope of returning from the war alive.

The short story UsneKahaTha by Chandradhar Sharma Guleri is based on the lives of Indian soldiers on the Belgian front.  It tells the story of Lehna Singh who sacrifices his life trying to save the lives of his Subedar and his son, to keep the word he gave to the Subedar’s wife who was his childhood sweetheart.

Twelve Victoria Crosses were awarded to Indian soldiers during the war. SepoyKhudadad Khan was the first Indian to be awarded the VC for conspicuous bravery.

After the end of the war Armistice Day continued to be observed as a national holiday in many of Allied nations to allow people to commemorate those members of the armed forces who were killed during war. Memorials were built to commemorate the Victory and also to remember those who sacrificed their lives. Two minute silence was observed at 11.00 a.m. as a mark of respect to the “Glorious Dead” followed by ceremonies.  It was scrupulously observed in the colonies, which contributed a significant chunk of the fighting forces.  Life came to a stand still at 11.00 a.m. on 11^th November every year, when the gun fired.  Ships stopped their engines, machines stopped in the places of work, vehicles stopped in their tracks, people stopped at work or on the road.

Armistice Day is being observed as Remembrance Day or Veterans Day in many Commonwealth countries today.  People wear a red poppy on the lapel of their coats in memory of those who laid down their lives in the war.  Special services and parades are held in some countries.

A special order used to be issued for the observance of Armistice Day in Port Blair. People gathered in an orderly manner around the War Memorial (GhantaGhar for us today) in the heart of the city.  The military personnel turned out in their uniforms.  When the gun boomed on RossIsland all fell silent; the troops came to attention; the bugler sounded the Last Post; the parade commander saluted. When Reveille was sounded after two minutes wreaths were laid on the memorial and a service read out.  The Scottish bagpipers played a haunting ‘lament’ on their pipes.  A few in the crowd shed tears remembering the ‘Glorious Dead’, whose names are inscribed on the memorial.

Five names are inscribed on the plaque — Captain E.B. Fawcett, Formerly Assistant Commandant, Military Police, SubadarMuzammal Khan, NaikMangat Chand, No 2312, Lance Naik Ali Sher, No. 2795, SepoyFeroze No. 2809.  They all went out from these islands and died in some faraway lands between 1914 and 1920.

Similar war memorials can be seen in many cities of India which sent their men to the warfront, in memory of those who did not return.  They all have a large clock in them, most of them still in excellent working condition. The biggest memorial is the India Gate in Delhi on which the names of all the Indian soldiers who fell in action during the First World War are engraved.

Thousands of people pass around the Clock Tower in Port Blair everyday, but not many are aware of its history nor do they care to read the names written on it.

 

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N. Francis Xavier
Part XLVI, (Continued from last week)
No one slept in the boat. It was many hours after Cursun slipped into the water and swam towards the shore with powerful strokes. Would he come back? What if he were apprehended and tortured to reveal where he came from? How long should they wait for him? Questions plagued the minds of the men as they waited anxiously for his return.

It was well past midnight when the men spotted a phosphorescent glow moving towards them. It was Cursun. With sigh of relief the men helped him into the boat. Cursun lay on the floor boards for some time, recovering his breath after the long swim. At length he spoke.

“We are in a place called Cuddalore, land of the Tamils. The men we saw in the morning were convicts from the Central Jail. But most of them are mentally deranged or petty criminals. But we shall be easily identified if we enter the town.

“What shall we do then? Should we weigh anchor and move away?” There was despair in the voices of the men. Have come all the way only to be arrested again and sent back to the islands?

“I have made some enquiries,” Cursun continued.

“Just a little towards north lies Pondicherry, a French territory. The British have no jurisdiction there. You remember the ships that used to smuggle rum and guns into Nicobar? They used to come from there. I have spoken the crews once. They said many fugitives from British law find sanctuary there.

“Hoist the sails then. Let’s set sail immediately,” one of the men shouted.
“Not so fast my friend,” Cursun replied. “The sea is full of British ships. The two countries fought a bitter was earlier and are rivals in business. We will be spotted and caught. We must strike out on land.

“What about the boat?” Hemraj spoke finally.

“There’s a river emptying into the sea just ahead. We must enter it now and scuttle the boat. And then we just walk along the sea shore till we reach Pondicherry. So long we don’t use the roads or the railways we will be safe.

“You take the tiller then. Up men! Ship your oars. Give way gently.

Without a word the men took their places on the thwarts and bent their backs. With Cursun at the helm the boat glided gently towards the shore. The high tide took them over the sand bar into the river. They could see a huge bungalow on one side, with many lights. Giving a wide berth to it they approached a point where the water was quite deep. After all the men stepped on shore Cursun and Hemraj let boat drift back into the mid stream. There they knocked the bottom out of the boat with their axe. As the boat sank they swam back to the shore.

There was still a couple of hours time before day break. The men were tired and hungry. But there was no time to lose. In the dim starlight they started walking towards the north, looking at the Big Dipper in the clear sky and finding the Pole star. They bent down and took the sand in their hands. It was the soil of their motherland. They still couldn’t believe they were actually walking on it. Before day break they entered a thick mango grove. Quietly the men separated and found suitable trees to take rest. They will start their trek when the sun goes down again. The ripe mangoes would satisfy their hunger till then. ( To be continued…)

N. Francis Xavier

Part XLV, (Continued from last week)

Nekram’s story added another worry to Hemraj’s already overburdened mind.

First it was Harpal’s admission of heading for Ferozepur, and now Nekram’s desire to be captured and taken back to Port Blair to be reunited with his beloved Anjoo. Over and above this was the tremendous responsibility of guiding their frail craft to the mainland coast of India.

Dark clouds started gathering overhead, so low as if one could touch them. The monsoon was still at its peak. The seas turned slate grey and rose in mountainous swells. It became dark like night. The whaler rose and fell moving in the direction Hemraj guided it. With the boat under full sail the men leaned against the bulwarks and rested. Their minds too were filled with thoughts of arrival and dispersal. They lost track of the time they spent at sea.

Debideen gave a loud shout suddenly. “I see a light … it’s gone now … there it is again.”

Hemraj handed the tiller to Bhaman Singh and stood up. In the gathering darkness he saw what appeared to be a flash. Then it flashed again, at the same spot. Hemraj knew what it meant. A lighthouse! They’re getting closer to land.

The lighthouse could still be miles away. There might be rocks there. They will have to approach during the day to avoid being smashed up on the rocks.

Hemraj asked for the lead sounding line. They could not find the bottom. Keeping the lighthouse to the starboard Hemraj sailed for another two hours before total darkness descended on them. The light was brighter now, and looked closer. Another sounding showed the bottom at nine fathoms. The sails were brought down. The anchor stowed in the bows was taken out and dropped. After short time they could feel the anchor taking a grip on the sea bed. The sea also abated a bit. After a light meal themen lay down in their places, waiting for day break. Are they going to touch a part of India or Ceylon? What kind of people are they going to meet? What would be their language? Many thoughts plagued their minds. The boat rolled gently in the swells as it swung on the anchor cable.

“Do you remember Hamid Khan,” Debideen asked suddenly.

“Which Hamid Khan?The Kabuli?” Hemraj asked.

“Yes. He was on the same ship as I was, in 1861. He got 14 years for possession of stolen property, a really harsh sentence. He came from a respectable Kabul family. The sentence was somehow reduced to 7 years and he went back. He lives in Kabul now.

“What does it mean for us? What kind of person is he?” Sheobrat asked.

“Hamid Khan’s brother Abdul Rahman Khan is an old and trusted servant of Amir Dost Mohammed Khan, the King of Afghanistan. Do you know that the King had written a letter to the Lt. Governor of Bengal requesting for the release of Hamid Khan?

“We used to meet sometimes, and he would talk about a conspiracy to implicate him in a false case by some of his business rivals. What do you know about him?

“Hamid Khan was engaged in mercantile transactions, visiting many countries. In 1859 he came to Calcutta and established a small trading post there. One day some people brought 50 pieces of cloth to him for sale, saying they purchased them at an auction. As Hamid knew them as brokers who acted as agents for the merchants of Khorasan he unsuspectingly bought the fifty pieces at rupees four apiece. He paid 100 rupees in cash and gave a note for the other 100 and entered their names in his books as Gopal and Kanhaiya.

“In the evening two English officers came to Hamid’s house and asked about the transaction. Being an honest man Hamid narrated the whole story and showed them the cloth. The officers then brought Gopal and Kanhaiya who denied having sold the goods. But on being questioned they gave their names as Brijnath and Munnoo. In the meantime the owner of the goods arrived and recognized them as his own. Hamid was arrested and locked up.

“The Andaman Penal colony had just been opened and there was urgent need for able-bodied convicts for developing the place. Poor Hamid, young and well-built, got 14 years for a trivial offence and put on the same ship in which I too was.

“Later it was discovered that Brijnath and Munna were two old thieves who regularly stole goods from the Railway Office. They too were sentenced to transportation.

“It was then the request for his early release was received from the King. The case was examined again and Hamid was released. He is believed to be in the court of the King of Afghanistan now.

“Well, what are you hinting at?” Sheobux Mina asked.

“I was very close to Hamid. He offered me asylum in Afghanistan once I get my release, or escape. The British will have no powers there. We can get some respectable employment and live as free men. The Afghans are nice people.”

Debideen’s story gave some solace to the men. Instead of the usual destination of Nepal, Afghanistan seemed a better place. But, how to get there? That would not be easy. (To be continued …)

N. Francis Xavier

Part XLII, (Continued from last week)

Only Nekram remained silent while the men sang. He sat huddled in a corner on the floorboards, head slumped on his knees.

Hemraj noticed the change in Nekram’s demeanor ever since the whaler entered the open sea. First he thought it was seasickness. But on a gentle sea, with a fair breeze there was no need to sit and sulk.

Nekram belonged to the early batches of convicts brought to the Islands in the 1860s. He was very young at that time, convicted, as it was with most cases, of murder. He was a handsome looking lad, with chiseled features. Long years of pulling the oars as a convict boatman made his body lean and hard. He was quite popular among the female convicts, who occasionally boarded the ferry to work on Ross.

Hemraj remembered that Nekram had applied to the Chief Commissioner some years ago for permission to marry. For some reason the permission was not granted. Many thought it was because he did not have a house of his own. He went regularly to the matrimonial parades held at Shadipur, where the female convicts could come and look at the men. Once a choice was made the Chief Commissioner conducted a thorough enquiry into the antecedents of both parties, including their religion, caste and family history. Sometimes it turned out that one of the parties already had a spouse living in India. Their cases were rejected.

Hemraj passed on the tiller to Debi Deen and moved over to Nekram’s side. He placed an arm over his shoulder and pressed. Nekram looked up. His eyes were full of tears.

“What’s this at a time when there’s rejoicing all round? Is there any problem bhai?” Hemraj asked.

Nekram’s answer was more tears and loud sobbing.

Hemraj hugged him tightly, running his hand through his hair.

“Tell me what it is. Don’t worry. Haven’t we been together all these years? What’s it?”

“What to say Hemraj bhai. I shouldn’t have joined this escape bid at all. It was the heat of the moment, and all that torture we endured at the hands of the cruel jamadars that made it appear to be the right thing to do. But when I look back I feel I should have stayed back.”

“Oh! Now I know you left something behind. Your heart! Am I right?” You never told me about it. Or else I would never have forced you to join us,” Hemraj said.

“Yes bhai, I left my heart behind. I left my beloved Anjoo. We have been in love for many years. I was hoping to reapply for marriage, now that a new Chief Commissioner had taken over.

“Why was the earlier application turned down? You have a wife and children back home?”, Hemraj asked.

“It’s the other way bhai. It’s a long story.

“Please tell me. It’ll ease your pain. Perhaps we can find a solution. Come on. Open up,” Hemraj prompted.

Nekram leaned his head on the gunwale and started his tale.

“Anjoo and I came to Port Blair on the same convict ship. While boarding the ship at Calcutta itself I noticed her. Everyone notice her, actually. She was just a child, perhaps thirteen years or so. And pregnant!

“The ship doctor initially refused to take her on board due to her condition. However, he was assured that there’s still a month or more for her confinement.

“Once on board the chains of the convicts, except those considered the most dangerous, were removed. We could come on to the deck to get some fresh air.

“It was then I first met Anjoo. She was terribly seasick. I was watching her from a distance. Her eyes were swollen due to crying. She couldn’t even stand as she had not eaten anything after we boarded the ship.

“As I watched she managed to get up with a great effort, as if trying to vomit over the ship’s side, but got a leg over it with the intention to jump. I ran to her and held her. She struggled violently and bit my arm, but I held on. Once she calmed down I made her lie down on the deck, gave her some water and forced her to eat a ship’s biscuit.

“I somehow convinced her against taking her own life, at least for the sake of the life that was growing inside her. I told her how, being very young she could start a new life again in Kala Pani. After long persuasion she gave up the idea of suicide.

“That’s how our friendship developed. Slowly, during our meetings over the years she revealed her story to me.

Hemraj leaned against the wall of the boat and stretched. He realized that the singing had stopped and the others too were listening. The boat was running free, with the wind behind her. A hush fell over the boat, except for the occasional flapping of the sail and the gurgle of water under the boards.

“Anjoo was sentenced to death for murder,” Nekram started.

“She was married to a man much older than herself at a very young age in the Dinajpore district of Bengal. She had not even reached puberty then. She was sent to her in-laws where she worked more like a slave. Her husband and his mother regularly beat her.

“It was during those times she came under the influence of Naseeruddeen. He too was much older than her. But it was easy for him to win her affection by sympathizing with her.

“Slowly the relationship developed into love. When they realized thatAnjoo became pregnant Naseeruddeen proposed they runaway. But it would not be easy to hide from her powerful in-laws. Naseeruddeen told her that it would be easier if her husband was killed in such a way that it appeared like a natural death. He knew a man who could supply them with a poison that served the purpose. All that Anjoo had to do was to mix it in his food and serve it to him.

“With the fear of discovery of her condition increasing every day Anjoo agreed to Naseeruddeen’s plan. She mixed the poison in the food her husband ate. Contrary to her expectations her husband died a most painful death. The police arrested Anjoo. Interrogation revealed the accomplice. Naseeruddeen tried to flee but was arrested and tried. Both were sentenced to death for willful and pre-meditated murder. Anjoo’s pregnancy also progressed along with the trial.

“Naseeruddeen was hanged in what was to be one of the last public hangings. Anjoo’s execution was delayed due to her pregnancy.

“It was at that time a man named McKenna entered her life. She only knew him as ‘Keno saab’, but I found out about him later. Angus McKenna was a Baptist missionary at Dinajpore. He was a very kind-hearted man. As she was lodged in the Dinajpore jail McKenna started visiting her and started taking interest in her case. Her young age and innocence made him take pity on her. He wrote a long letter to the Hon’ble Ashley Eden, then Secretary to the Lt. Governor of Bengal praying for clemency. He requested that the death sentence be commuted to transportation for life to the Andamans where she may have a chance to start life anew.

“When the case came up for hearing in the Calcutta High Court the judges felt that her lover, many years older than her, exercised a powerful influence over her. As he has already been hanged publicly they recommended that her death sentence be commuted to transportation.

“Anjoo was not aware of McKenna’s clemency petition. As she waited for death she received the news of the commutation. She still considers McKenna as a god, who gave her a new life.

“The child born to her was adopted. After completing her sentence she has also attained self-supporter status. We were both planning to apply again to Cadellsaab for marriage … well, when this happened”, Nekram ended his tale wiping his tears.

“But she’s a Muslim bhai, and you are a Hindu. Do you thing the CC would agree to it? Anyway, let us talk about it later. Eat something first and let us reach the mainland. We’ll find a way out.

Hemraj’s words brought some solace to Nekram.