The Bride from Bombay: Bombay Kay Dulahin

By Bhanmatee Sita Gobin

At the turn of the nineteenth century, a widespread migration took place as a result of British colonialism. This migration was known as the Indian diaspora. It was a time when millions of East Indians would jump ship and leave India to be taken as indentured laborers to the far corners of the world to Fiji, Mauritius, South Africa, and the West IndiesTrinidad and Tobago, Suriname, and Guyana. The circumstances that surrounded this for many of the migrants were poverty, famine, and hopelessness. In the case of those sailing to Trinidad, it was under the lure of chenee dadthe land where sugar flows.
Bombay Kay Dulahin is a story beyond the grasp of the historians. It is one womans journey of overcoming the unthinkable through a vision and a dream. She was the daughter of East Indian immigrants in the emerging cosmopolitan society of Trinidad and Tobago. Cast off into an arranged marriage at the age of sixteen and possessing no more than a first-grade education, her strength, courage, and passion drive her to keep her vision and dream of breaking social and gender norms.
The book discusses traditional East Indian arranged marriages, the age-old Hindu caste-system structure and traditions. It is a story that shows there are no boundaries and borders when it comes to the resiliency of human endurance, passion, and a mothers unconditional love, ensuring that her loved ones and family are influenced positively for generations to come.

A story about love, faith, and hope.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jun 12, 2015
• ISBN: 9781503573949

Bhanmatee Sita Gobin

Born in an idyllic village on the east coast of Trinidad and Tobago, Bhanmatee Gobin belongs to a selected generation of university-educated East Indian women whose forefathers migrated from the northern Indian states of Uttar Pradesh and Bihar to the Caribbean as part of the Indian diaspora during the British taj rule. She is an educator by training and has dedicated and devoted her life to teaching and inspiring minds. Bhanmatee Gobin hails from an era of transition when East Indians in the West were struggling to balance the cultural norms and traditions with the progressive Western ideologies. She is one of the few modern-day authorities on the authentic East Indian experience in Trinidad and the West Indies through language, arts, music, and cultural traditions. She has lived in the United States for the past thirty years, where she has continued her career as an educator. This crossing of the Atlantic Ocean has given her a true and unique immigrant’s perspective into life in the West. This experience has given her the inspiration to return to her roots through her debut literary piece, Bombay Kay Dulahin, a captivating historical memoir.

Book preview

Copyright © 2015 by Bhanmatee Sita Gobin.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 06/12/2015

Xlibris

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

702415

CONTENTS

Behari Folk (Shaadi Geet)

Foreword

Chapter 1    Earliest Memories

Chapter 2    Ma Departs America

Chapter 3    Hardships

Chapter 4    The Childbearing Years

Chapter 5    School Days

Chapter 6    Bombay Kay Dulahin

Chapter 7    The Village

Chapter 8    Village Life

Chapter 9    Aja And Aji

Chapter 10    Phoowa

Chapter 11    Parmanand

Chapter 12    Pope Naryne

Chapter 13    Bimati

Chapter 14    Ram

Chapter 15    Latchmeechand

Chapter 16    Dolly Himawatee Or Doll

Chapter 17    Chaitnawantee

Chapter 18    Arjoon

Chapter 19    Saaysh Kumar

Chapter 20    Chandrawatee

Chapter 21    Narine

Chapter 22    Ramdaye (Gita)

Chapter 23    Sacred Mantras

Chapter 24    Popular Songs

Chapter 25    The Prophecy

Chapter 26    Love And Sacrifice

Chapter 27    Reflections

Chapter 28    Unity Is Strength

Chapter 29    God And The Government

Chapter 30    Immortality

Chapter 31    Dhoka (Betrayal)

Epilogue

Glossary

References

About The Author

This book is lovingly dedicated to the memory of my mother, Sumintra Gangasingh. This dedication is like laying a garland at the feet of the gods. In so doing, this dedication becomes an act of worship. It is my humble offering in this maiden venture to release the priceless gems of wisdom that were handed down to me by her. I now feel privileged to disseminate that wisdom, especially to all mothers and women of the Indian diaspora of that era who were seen but not heard.

This work would not be possible if it were not for the loving support of my son, Haresh, who saw the worthiness of the character of his nani (grandmother). Thank you for believing that I was competent to put this together. And also to my eldest son, Rishi, and my husband, Amrith, who were pillars of support during her illness. To all my friends, especially Indira, who was always ready to hold her hand in the hour of need. And to all my siblings who helped in one way or the other, especially to my brother, Shyaam, who died while taking care of Ma, and my sister, Radica, who embodied Ma’s spirit.

I also pay special tribute to the village where I grew up and the surviving villagers, especially Sylvie, who still welcomes me with open arms upon my visits.

Finally, to the caregivers, Maria, Lupe, and Roberta, who cared for her as if she were their own.

Om Shanti Om.

BEHARI FOLK (SHAADI GEET)

Bombay Kay Dulahin Aayi Re, Ay Babu ji

Dekho, Bombay se ayi hai dulhaniya, Babuji …

Babuji … dekho Babuji … ee …

Are Bombay se ayi hai bahuriya dekho babuji

Kaise suhavni lagat hai

dekho babuji

Translation: Look, Babu Ji. The bride has come from Bombay. Look how beautiful she is.

Verse

Gore gore hatho mein kangana suhave

kangana mein dekho kaise moti lage

khan khan baje dekho kangana re

babuji …

Kaise pyari bahuriya lagat hai

dekho babuji

Translation: The gold bangles she wears on her hands are adorned with pearls. Look how beautiful she is.

Mathe pe tikka jhilmil chamake

tikke pe dekho kaise nagina damake

hodho pe kaise lali chai dekho babuji

Kaise nyari dulhaniya lagat hai

dekho babuji

Translation: On her forehead, her tikka has a gorgeous, shiny gem. Her lips are painted red and look enchanting.

Paro mein chaam chaam payal baje

thumk thumk ke pag pag badaye

Ghunghat mein mukhda chupake chali

dekho babuji

Kaise sundar si lagat hai

dekho babuji

Translation: The bells are making a tantalizing, sweet sound as she walks. Look, Babu Ji, how beautiful she looks.

FOREWORD

It has been over four years since this literary work, Bombay Kay Dulahin, by my mother, Ms. Bhanmatee Gangasingh Gobin, was completed. The time lapse to press represents the emotional detachment of releasing a work that is as personal and as intimate as this book. This piece is a work that epitomizes the universal concept of love and family and also shows the inverse realities of life. (Kabhi sukh, kabhi dukh. Life is sometimes happy and sometimes sad.) My mother has spent countless hours of her time and emotions on this piece that readers from many walks of life can relate to. It is a unique story in the sense that there are many underlying themes, such as traditional East Indian culture, Westernization, and a well-documented time in history when the British Empire ruled the globe.

During the time of British imperialism and colonization, the world was changing. The impact of this change would trickle down to generations around the globe in what is deemed in history as the Indian diaspora, this uprooting of the masses of poverty-stricken Indians that were forced to leave their homeland of India to the British colonies around the world for survival. This displacement would impact families and their future generations to date and change their destinies forever. As a result, they were faced with many issues, such as cultural norms, gender roles, and societal issues.

The book revolves around the life’s story of my grandmother Sumintra Gangasingh, a strikingly beautiful Kshatriya woman hailing from the Rajput lineage that was born on the island of Trinidad and Tobago. She was a first-generation immigrant born to indentured East Indian workers that were brought to the West Indies after the abolition of slavery in the early 1900s. It is a tale of her perseverance and faith and shows the undying bonds and love of family that is woven into human relationships. She possessed no more than a first-grade level education but lived a life in the role of a leader, a role model, and a visionary. It explores her life, which was one that was a roller-coaster ride of ups and downs. We all have our ups and downs in life, and this book will undoubtedly connect with the feelings and emotions that we all experience—happiness, sadness, pain, and love.

My mother, Bhanmatee Gangasingh Gobin, who represents and embodies a selfless individual who has made her own life-changing sacrifices (migrating to the United States with my hard-of-hearing brother for his betterment at the prime of her life), is a literary intellectual in her own right, as she is an educator by training. She was raised in a time when those with Eastern values were transitioning to Westernization for social, educational, and political advancement.

However, in the West, there were progressive-thinking East Indian immigrants, like my grandmother who challenged and broke the stereotypical gender norms and age-old traditions, such as educating a daughter. My mother, like her mother, saw education as a gateway out of poverty that would open the corridors to independence and happiness. Such visionaries as these, while progressive and ambitious, represented a new breed of role models that also believed in preservation of self-identity and culture.

This was to counter the transformational dilemma faced by many East Indians in the West Indies and around the globe. Many of them converted to Christianity and gave their children Eurocentric names. This would promote their social advancement, and they would be seen as equal with their Afro, Creole, and other ethnic counterparts. The sociopolitical atmosphere fostered this trend and transformation. My mother was produced from a cloth that was ideologically progressive and culturally and morally proud to preserve the identity of our forefathers, who came from the heartland North Indian states of Uttar Pradesh and Bihar.

Growing up in Trinidad and Tobago in the 1960s, she was the first girl in her village to ride a bicycle, and that would later lead to her being the first owning and driving a car. She stood with my grandmother as a guardian of the younger siblings and a new-age breadwinner. She is a passionate follower and student of the Bhakti Sangeet and Gyaan (knowledge) school of philosophy in addition to being university-educated. This allowed her to have deep insight and to introspect into preserving her self-identity and cultural traditions. She is one of the few individuals today that can speak in depth on the East Indian experience in the West Indies with regard to language, customs, and music.

Literary pieces on the East Indian diaspora experience have been underrepresented, as the commercial pieces that have been released to press thus far have failed to present the experience in the most authentic form. This book contains a glossary of Bhojpuri Hindi words and phrases that were spoken by the brown sahibs (as Mr. V. S. Naipaul portrays in his literary works). There has been no in-depth documentation of this in recent times.

The migration during the Indian diaspora in places like Fiji, Mauritius, Suriname, Guyana, Jamaica, and Trinidad and Tobago was a time in history that was a strategic ploy for the British Empire’s expansion and global domination. This story is a micro-view of the East Indian experience in Trinidad and Tobago after indentureship, which ended in the early 1900s. It highlights the plight of the East Indian folk who are now attempting to assimilate into the lifestyle of the Caribbean, facing many cultural differences and socioeconomic obstacles. It captures their voice that throughout history was subdued and silenced. In cultures around the world today, there has been an overall shift from the core values that many civilizations were built on, the values of familial bonds, love, and sacrifice. The emphasis for many today is on self-advancement and monetary gain. Modern societies have invested more into the secular aspects of education. We have focused on the exploration of abstract concepts and theories, but we have forgotten the sacred and simple elements of life that emphasize human emotions. This has created a lot of problems in societies worldwide, which have polarized into violence and turmoil. This literary piece explores these fundamental emotions that were the cornerstone of societies around the world at one point in time. It is the intense personal story of one woman’s commitment to unrelenting love and undaunting sacrifice for her family that I am sure you will enjoy. It is indeed a great honor to present to you Bombay Ke Dulahin (The Bride from Bombay).

Haresh Gobin

GangaJamuna Productions

CHAPTER 1

Earliest Memories

My earliest and most precious memories sit on top of a little hill surrounded by rivers and trees where birds chirp and butterflies flutter their wings all day long on hot summer days. Memories nestled in a little house with mud walls and a carat (palm leaves) roof, the leaves so worn out from the constant rain you could count the stars as you lay in bed on a bright full-moon night. I yearn to return to the village with no pipe-borne water or electricity.

To wake up to the crowing of the yard rooster, Cock-a-doodle-doo and the cackle of laying hens at the early break of dawn, to witness the sunrise and the dewdrops that settled beneath your feet as you took the goats and cows out for the day—what feelings of ecstasy when the animals found a nice soft patch of grass filled with the early morning dewdrops. While they nibbled on the soft green grass, it gave you a moment to open up your eyes and sojourn the hills and river that were part of the landscape.

As they returned by evening to take them to their crude pens, where they would spend their nights, their bellies were all rounded and bulging. The goats would baa on their way back home, happy as far as I could tell. Like the goats, we were contented not having to deal with the complexities of life. This was part of the life back then—my life.

I remember the cool breeze that bathed our faces on hot summer days and the downpour of showers on rainy days. The stately immortelle trees with bright red flowers graced our landscape, and huge corn bird nests hung from them. Sitting on the hill on evenings, we watched the flight of birds that had made it back from the mainland. This told us it was around five o’clock, and nightfall would soon be approaching.

I miss the sight of the young boys who was seen carrying huge bags of conch home on rainy days when the river had overflowed its bank. On some days, they would go bird catching, returning at the end of the day with the exotic pico and semp (local exotic birds). On rainy days, we witnessed the wild agouti circling our front yard to nibble on the guavas and primrose that had fallen to the ground. The aroma from the fallen fruits filled the air for miles around.

I long for the peace back then. There were few automobiles and no pollution. The air was clean, and there were no terminal illnesses. Moreover, I miss the smell of the parched earth when the showers had cooled it off.

I reminisce on the simplicity of life, when everyone knew everybody and loved everybody. When everyone shared by giving a hand for harvesting the crops or giving when there was excess. No one went hungry. In fact, we would go to the neighbors; and as little children, we were always given food. This is the African concept of a village model, which, in recent times, the world has taken note of. It has also been brought to the forefront for world betterment and peace by Sen. Hilary Clinton. (It takes a village to raise a child.)

There were always plentiful tropical fruits year-round—mangoes, pommerack, or pommecythere, always something to fill up on. And then there was the caring and the kindness of the neighbors. One of my first memories was of Ms. Ceda feeding my brother and me sausages. She was of Portuguese descent, short and slightly hunched, and always carried a smile. My mother said she was married to Mr. Rivers, who was of African descent. I didn’t know him; he must have died very young, leaving Ms. Ceda with three mulatto children: Edna, Tanchun, and John. John was my age. He was of pale complexion, tall, and lanky.

One rainy day, we were left alone. My mother and