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Tracing an Indian Diaspora
ii Tracing an Indian Diaspora
Tracing an Indian Diaspora
Contexts, Memories, Representations
Edited by
PARVATI RAGHURAM
AJAYA KUMAR SAHOO
BRIJ MAHARAJ
DAVE SANGHA
Copyright © Parvati Raghuram, Ajaya Kumar Sahoo, Brij Maharaj, Dave Sangha, and
Individual Contributors for their Respective Contributions, 2008
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or utilised in any form
or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by
any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the
publisher.
First published in 2008 by
SAGE Publications India Pvt Ltd
B 1/I-1, Mohan Cooperative Industrial Area
Mathura Road, New Delhi 110044, India
www.sagepub.in
SAGE Publications Ltd
2455 Teller Road
Thousand Oaks, California 91320, USA
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London EC1Y 1SP, United Kingdom
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#02-01 Far East Square
Singapore 048763
Published by Vivek Mehra for SAGE Publications India Pvt Ltd, typeset in 10.5/12.6 pt
MininbyStarCompugraphicsPrivateLimited,DelhiandprintedatChamanEnterprises,
New Delhi.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Tracing an Indian diaspora: contexts, memories, representations/edited by Parvati
Raghuram ...(et al.).
p. cm.
Includes bibliographical references and index.
1. East Indian diaspora. I. Raghuram, Parvati.
DS432.5.T73 304.80954—dc22 2008 2008031598
ISBN: 978-81-7829-833-7 (HB)
The SAGE Team: Sugata Ghosh, Abantika Banerjee, Mamta Singh and Trinankur
Banerjee
Contents
List of Tables viii
List of Plates and Figures ix
List of Abbreviations x
Foreword by Sachidananda Mohanty xii
Acknowledgements xiv
1. Thinking ‘Indian Diaspora’ for Our Times 1
Parvati Raghuram and Ajaya Kumar Sahoo
Section 1
‘A New Form of Slavery’: Indentured Diaspora
Introduction Brij Maharaj
2. ‘Positioning’ the Indian Diaspora: The South-east
Asian Experience 29
Rajesh Rai
3. Forgotten Malaysians? Indians and Malaysian Society 52
Carl Vadivella Belle
4. Indo-Fijians: Marooned without Land and Power in a
South Pacific Archipelago? 75
Henry Srebrnik
5. Indo-Caribbean Political Leaders during the
Twentieth Century 96
Sahadeo Basdeo and Brinsley Samaroo
Section 2
The New Indian Diaspora
Introduction Dave Sangha
6. Citizenship and Dissent in Diaspora: Indian Immigrant
Youth in the United States after 9/11 131
Sunaina Maira
7. The Indian Diaspora in the United States of America:
An Emerging Political Force? 156
Pierre Gottschlich
vi Tracing an Indian Diaspora
8. Immigration Dynamics in the Receiving State—Emerging
Issues for the Indian Diaspora in the United Kingdom 171
Parvati Raghuram
9. Indian Diaspora in the United Kingdom: Second-
Generation Parents’ Views and Experiences on
Heritage Language Transmission 191
Ravinder Barn
10. Indian Diaspora in New Zealand: History, Identity and
Cultural Landscapes 210
Wardlow Friesen and Robin A. Kearns
Section 3
Doing Diaspora: Identifications
Introduction Parvati Raghuram
11. The Chishtiyya Diaspora—An Expanding Circle? 237
Celia A. Genn
12. Hyderabadis Abroad: Memories of Home 257
Karen Isaksen Leonard
13. Moving Beyond, Moving Ahead: Possible Paradigms
for Accessing Indian Emigrant Subjectivities 271
Mala Pandurang
14. Immigrants, Images and Identity: Visualising Homelands
Across Borders 284
Cynthia J. Miller
15. Identity Dilemmas: Gay South Asian Men in
North America 299
Geoffrey Burkhart
Section 4
Representations: Contestations of/in the Indian Diaspora
Introduction Parvati Raghuram
16. Re-domesticating Hindu Femininity: Legible Pasts in
the Bengali American Diaspora 329
Esha Niyogi De
17. Romancing Religion: Neoliberal Bollywood’s Gendered
Visual Repertoire for a Pain-free Globalisation 346
Nandini Bhattacharya
18. Women Writers of the South Asian Diaspora:
Towards a Transnational Feminist Aesthetic? 368
Sam Naidu
19. Memory of Trauma in Meena Alexander’s Texts 392
Jaspal Kaur Singh
20. Meta-Mobilis: The Case for Polymorphous Existence in
K.S. Maniam’s Between Lives 408
Bernard Wilson
21. Exilic Dispositions and Dougla Identity in Laure
Moutoussamy’s Passerelle de vie (The Bridge of Life) 428
Brinda Mehta
About the Editors and Contributors 451
Index 453
Contents vii
List of Tables
2.1 Indian Occupational Categories in Colonial Burma (1931) 37
2.2 Malaysia—Ethnic Groups as a Percentage of the
Total Population (2000) 43
2.3 Singapore Residents by Ethnic Group (June 2005) 47
5.1 East Indian Immigration to the Caribbean, 1838–1917 97
7.1 Indian American Election Candidates, 2 November 2004 165
9.1 Languages Spoken by Parents to their Children (in %)
(n = 84) 198
9.2 Languages Spoken by Children to their Parents (in %)
(n = 84) 199
Preface ix
List of Plates and Figures
Plates
4.1 Fijian Government Soldiers Push Back a Crowd during
the Coup in May 2000 86
4.2 Preparing for the Voters at a Polling Station in the
General Election, May 2006 89
5.1 Adrian Cola Rienzi 103
5.2 Cheddi Jagan 116
10.1 Hindi Radio at Diwali Festival, Auckland 2006 211
10.2 The New Sikh Gurdwara in Auckland 223
11.1 Hazrat Inayat Khan, the Indian Sufi Master and
Musician Who First Brought Sufism to the West 242
11.2 Children’s Theatre Programme at the Urs of Hazrat
Inayat Khan in New Delhi, 1999 247
11.3 Participants from India, Australia, the US, Canada and
Germany in a Retreat at Hazrat Inayat Khan’s Dargah
in New Delhi, 2003 249
17.1 Amitabh Bachchan in Ram Balram, 1980 351
17.2 Amitabh Bachchan in Naseeb, 1981 351
17.3 A Still from HAHK! 359
Figures
9.1 Percentage Distribution of the British Indian
Population in the UK 195
10.1 New Zealand Residence Visas and Permits Granted to
Nationals of India and Fiji, 1982–2005 (March Years) 214
10.2 Birthplace of Indian Population of New Zealand, 2001 215
List of Abbreviations
AAHOA Asian-American Hotel Owners Association
AAPI American Association of Physicians of Indian Origin
AIWA Asian Indian Women in America
AFPFL Anti-Fascist People’s Freedom League
ALTA Agricultural Landlord and Tenants Act
ALTO Agricultural Landlords and Tenants Ordinance
AMJCA All-Malayan Council of Joint Action
ASHA Asian Women’s Self-Help Association
AWACS Airborne Warning and Control System
BBC British Broadcasting Corporation
BIA Board of Immigration Appeals
BJP Bharatiya Janata Party
CAIR Council on American–Islamic Relations
CBI Confederation of British Industry
CIAM Central Indian Association of Malaya
CMIO Chinese, Malays, Indians and ‘Others’
CSR Colonial Sugar Refining
DHS Department of Homeland Security
EIC East India Company
EU European Union
FAB Fijian Affairs Board
FBI Federal Bureau of Investigation
FIA Federation of Indian American Associations
FLP Fiji Labour Party
FTUC Fiji Trades Union Congress
GCC Great Council of Chiefs
GRCs group representation constituencies
IACPA Indian American Centre for Political Awareness
IAFPE India America Forum for Political Education
IALI Indian American Leadership Incubator
IIL Indian Independence League
INA Indian National Army
INS Immigration and Naturalisation Service
IOOR India and Oriental Office Records
ISKCON International Society for Krishna Consciousness
LAI League Against Imperialism
MCA Malayan Chinese Association
MCP Malayan Communist Party
MIC Malayan Indian Congress
NEP New Economic Policy
NFIA National Federation of Indian American Associations
NFP National Federation Party
NGOs non-governmental organisations
NHS National Health Service
NLTA Native Land Trust Act
NLTB Native Land Trust Board
NRIs non-resident Indians
NRM new religious movement
NSEERS National Security Entry–Exit Registration System
NUPW National Union of Plantation Workers
OCA Organisation of Chinese Americans
OECD Organisation for Economic Cooperation and
Development
PAP People’s Action Party
PIOs people of Indian origin
PNC People’s National Congress
PNAC Project for the New American Century
PPP People’s Progressive Party
RSS Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh
SDL Soqosoqo Duavata ni Lewenivanua
SAMTA South Asian Mentoring and Tutoring Association
SOAS School of Oriental and African Studies
UGC University Grants Commission
UMNO United Malays National Organisation
USINPAC US India Political Action Committee
VHP Vishwa Hindu Parishad
WLP Washington Leadership Programme
List of Abbreviations xi
Foreword
Tracing an Indian Diaspora arrives on the scene when disciplinary
studies in the humanities and social sciences are in a state of flux.
The volume is not only a major contribution to diaspora studies; it is
also a pointer to the new directions in which interdisciplinary research
could be fruitfully carried out. Indeed, as the editors argue ‘Diaspora
has become a key trope in the humanities today’.
Central to the book is the premise that diaspora involves the ‘re
imagining of territoriality’. For, traditional political paradigms always
recognised the territoriality of nation states. As the editors cogently
argue, the Indian diaspora today typifies ‘locations of resistance and
locations of belonging’. In the wake of 9/11, we find that questions of
belonging are increasingly ‘being territorialised, scrutinised and penal-
ised’. There are ‘multiple identifications and contested affiliations’ in
the era of global capital. Based on this framework, the volume arranges
chapters into four main sections. Each section is preceded by a brief
introduction.
What precisely is achieved in the shift of the study from ‘immigrants’
to that of the ‘diaspora’? Parvati Raghuram, Ajaya Kumar Sahoo, Brij
Maharaj and Dave Sangha, editors of this volume, focus on ‘contexts,
memories and representations’. They contend that ‘reading the dias-
pora is most politically productive when embedded in the reality of
its production, circulation and appropriation’.
Straddling several disciplines and knowledgeable systems such as
sociology, political science, ethnography, literature, anthropology, geo-
graphy, history, international relations, women’s studies, Tracing an
Indian Diaspora is a testimony to the power of this cutting-edge dis-
cipline to generate thinking about the diaspora. The volume does not
intend to be all comprehensive. Indeed, the editors, in a self-reflexive
manner, highlight several areas such as the interface between newer
modes of knowledge like digital technology and transnational affiliation
that call for a more detailed enquiry.
Writtenforthemostpartinalucid,jargon-freelanguage,thevolume
is truly international in character. It seeks out scholars from various
parts of the world who offer original thinking on the issue of the
(Indian) diaspora in the age of global capital. There is a common thread
that runs through the volume, although the editors admit that their
effort represents ‘an assemblage’ and not ‘a narrative’.
Tracing an Indian Diaspora is a landmark volume. It signals the
arrival of the new discipline.
Sachidananda Mohanty
Professor, Department of English
University of Hyderabad
Foreword xiii
Acknowledgements
The editors would like to acknowledge the authors for their
contributions to the book. Ajaya would particularly like to thank
them for responding swiftly to his often urgent requests during the
editorial process.
Parvati would like to thank the Geography Department at The Open
University for providing an intellectually stimulating and supportive
environment. Dave would like to acknowledge the support of his col-
leagues in the Social Work Programme at the University of Northern
British Columbia. Brij would like to acknowledge the support received
from the Geography Department at the University of KwaZulu-
Natal.
Finally, the editors would like to thank Dr Sugata Ghosh of SAGE
Publications for his kind interest and support in bringing out the
book in time.
1
Thinking ‘Indian Diaspora’ for Our Times
PARVATI RAGHURAM AND AJAYA KUMAR SAHOO
This volume traces some of the plurality within the Indian diaspora,
a plurality which takes many forms: geographical dispersion, his-
torical contexts, temporal frames, authorial positions, political affili-
ations. It is thus an assemblage, not a narrative. And it is purposefully
so. This volume does not attempt to produce a new boundary around
diasporic identifications but rather to unsettle diaspora by loosely
juxtaposing a set of chapters that provide complementary, sometimes
competing perspectives, on diasporic locations, identifications and re-
presentations. In this introduction we aim to briefly outline the think-
ing behind this strategy and provide an outline of the volume.
UNSETTLING DIASPORIC THINKING
Diaspora has become a key trope in the humanities today. The launch
of the journal Diaspora: A Journal of Transnational Studies in 1991 by
Khachig Tololyan testifies not only to the importance achieved by the
concept as an instrument of analysis, but also to the desire to do away
withthesharplydefinedbordersofthenationstate.Sociologists,anthro-
pologists, cultural critics and historians have in the last decades put to
the test essentialist definitions of culture and nation. Contemporary
ethnography, to give but one example, has rejected reductive notions
of culture as dwelling in favour of a wider definition of culture as multi-
locale. The concept of nation as an unalterable homogeneous entity
has been seriously questioned. Although the idea of the nation should
not be completely cast aside—after all, nations are still powerful and
2 Parvati Raghuram and Ajaya Kumar Sahoo
important political, administrative and cultural units—new historical
changes demand that the nation state should recognise the limits of
its territoriality. To put it differently, nations are urged to reconsider
and transcend old concepts of boundaries and frontiers so that they
can become just one site in a new transnational culture. And diasporic
thinking has arguably become one tool in this boundary transcend-
ing analysis.
The concept of ‘diaspora’ and its geographical and territorial di-
mensions have all been subject to various interpretations (Braziel and
Mannur 2003). AccordingtoVertovec(1997: 277)theterm‘diaspora’isof-
ten applied to ‘describe practically any population that is considered
“deterritorialized” or “transnational”—that is, which has originated in
a land other than which it currently resides in, and whose social,
economic, and political networks cross the borders of nation-states
or, indeed, span the globe.’ It is therefore evident that geographically,
‘diaspora involves a radical … redefinition of place. To the ancient
Greeks, diaspora was associated with migration and colonisation’
(Cohen 1997: ix). However, for Jews, Africans, Palestinians and Arme-
nians, the term had a more ominous connotation: ‘Diaspora signified
a collective trauma, a banishment, where one dreamed of home but
lived in exile’ (Cohen 1997: ix).
ForotherssuchasPaulGilroy(1994)andStuartHall(1990),diaspora
is defined not by biographical connectivity across geographical areas
or political boundaries, but is created by and through differentiation.
It is the contradictory emotions, the ambivalences in the diasporic’s
notions of belonging, their identification with and against territorial
social and cultural formations, especially as they are shaped through the
processes of exclusion, that they highlight in their work on diaspora.
They root diaspora in its effective dislocations between ‘locations of
residence and locations of belonging’ (Gilroy 2000: 124) in order to
expose the political possibilities of this rupture.
A more categorical definition of diaspora has been adopted by
writerssuchasSafran(1991),Sheffer(1993),Bruneau(1994)andCohen
(1997). For them migration can be defined as producing a ‘diaspora’
if four conditions are met: first, an ethnic consciousness; second, an
active associative life; third, contacts with the land of origin in various
forms, real or imaginary; fourth, there should be relations with other
groups of the same ethnic origin spread over the world. This is perhaps
best captured by Judith Shuval:
Thinking ‘Indian Diaspora’ for Our Times 3
A diaspora is a social construct founded on feeling, consciousness, mem-
ory, mythology, history, meaningful narratives, group identity, longings,
dreams, allegorical and virtual elements all of which play an important role
in establishing a diaspora reality. At a given moment in time, the sense of
connection to a homeland must be strong enough to resist forgetting,
assimilating or distancing. (Shuval 2000: 43)
It is this categorical similarity, based on affective and symbolic rela-
tions with a homeland, real or imagined, that marks this second def-
inition of migration. Diaspora is thus marked by similarity rather than
disjuncture.
A much more critical take on the trope of diaspora is offered by
Floya Anthias (1998; also see Soysal 2000). She centres her criticism of
the ubiquitousness of ‘diasporic thinking’ around its failure to move
beyond attachment to ‘primordial’ connections expressed through no-
tions of ethnicity and nationality or to provide a meaningful basis for
an intersectional analysis that takes gender and class differences within
and across the diaspora seriously. These are serious concerns that
have never been fully addressed by those working in this field.
OnepartialresponsetohercriticismsofdiasporacomefromSökefeld
(2006) who counters the accusation of primordialism by arguing that
diaspora may be analytically treated as akin to social movements: they
occur in response to triggers and require agents to actively imagine and
produceadiasporathroughasetofmobilisingpractices.Diasporaisde-
fined here as intersecting sets of imagined transnational communities.
The assumption of a shared identity that unites people living dispersed in
transnational space thereby becomes the central defining feature of dias-
poras. Rejecting ideas of migrants’ natural rootedness and belonging to
places of origin, I argued that diaspora identity and the imagination of a
diaspora community is also an outcome of mobilization processes. The de-
velopment of diaspora identity is not simply a natural and inevitable result
of migration but a historical contingency that frequently develops out of
mobilization in response to specific critical events. Diaspora is thus firmly
historicized. It is not an issue of naturally felt roots but of specific political
circumstances that suggest the mobilization of a transnational imagined
community. The focus on mobilization in the formation of diasporas effect-
ively counters essentializing concepts of diaspora. (Sökefeld 2006: 280)
In autumn 2006, as we write this editorial, the force of diaspora as a
tactic for connecting people to a place of origin has only gathered force.
4 Parvati Raghuram and Ajaya Kumar Sahoo
The sites and means through which diasporic identification is mo-
bilised and where diaspora is represented and contested have also
multiplied. A number of important players have entered this field—
most notably national governments. There has, for instance, been a re-
imagination of the relationship between domicility, citizenship and
belonging in India from one that is exclusive and coterminous to one
that recognises that deterritorialised populations may be mobilised
to invest in the territories they and their ancestors left behind. With
a population of more than 20 million, spread across a 110 countries,
the numbers involved are vast. This re-imagining of territoriality is
done through the emotional register, through an evocative call to
feel the love and affection you can find in mother India. But not all
Indians are recalled in the same way. The Indian government itself
distinguishes between people of Indian origin (PIOs), those who pro-
fess their allegiance to India while relinquishing citizenship rights, and
non-resident Indians (NRIs), those who are (at least for the moment)
sojourners—Indian citizens living in other countries. The designation
‘NRI’ in particular has always had strong economic connotations.
The government has for long called upon its diaspora to help ‘develop’
the territorially located nation state, indeed encouraged it by offer-
ing attractive investment packages and financial concessions. This
reverberates through the ‘development machinery’ with diasporic
development becoming a key strategy for various bodies under the
umbrella of the United Nations, international development agencies
and non-governmental organisations (NGOs). PIOs, on the other
hand, are often re-called through the language of cultural continuity
and affect, but an affect that too has economic potential for the mother
country. The financial demands on the diaspora, it appears, are increas-
ingly becoming dispersed across the different categories of migrants
(sojourners, NRIs, PIOs) who originate from India.
Moreover, the politics of belonging, which occupies centre stage
in the troubled territories of nationalism and citizenship, has become
evenmorecontestedinthepost9/11landscape.Thequestionofbelong-
ing is increasingly being territorialised, securitised and penalised. In
the polarised discussions of belonging, diasporics are continuously
being asked to display how and in what ways ‘you are one of us, not
one of them’. Multiple identifications and contested affiliation are to
be muffled, congealed into a publicly expressed singular narrative of
Thinking ‘Indian Diaspora’ for Our Times 5
belonging. In the countries of origin too, diasporas are being used to
strengthen both economic and cultural nationalism (Dirlik 2004).
As diaspora becomes the new engine for igniting sluggish econ-
omies and for professing exclusive emotional and political affili-
ations, it is time to return to the work that the trope of diaspora is being
required to perform. This volume contributes towards this effort and
in doing so it deploys many of the different understandings of dias-
pora that we have outlined here. Intertextually, these different versions
of the diaspora can unpack, perhaps even destabilise the notion of
diaspora.
We emphasise the ability of diasporic thinking to play with bound-
aries—on their maintenance, reconfiguration, unsettling, and on
boundary conflicts and negotiations. The types of boundaries traversed
may be physical, political, social, cultural and emotional. Writings on
diaspora often call upon a heady concoction of these to create a par-
ticular imaginary of diaspora. Importantly, these border crossings also
bring up unexpected alliances and collisions with the politics sur-
rounding other markers of identity such as race, ethnicity, gender,
class and sexuality, especially as they relate to nationality, nationalism
and transnationalism. It is in these spaces where the diaspora politics
weaves through and across other vectors of difference that the most
interesting intellectual conundrums and challenging political ques-
tions are posed.
PRODUCING THE VOLUME
This volume and its assemblage has its own history. It is the brain-
child of academics working at the Centre for the Study of Indian
Diaspora, Hyderabad, who decided to mark the first decade of the es-
tablishment of the Centre by issuing a commemorative volume on the
subject. The annual Pravasi Bharatiya Divas celebrations, which mark
the achievements of the Indian diaspora, was also held in Hyderabad
in January 2006. This volume was originally envisaged as celebrating
both events.
Until the early 1990s, interest in the diaspora was largely filtered
through the economic lens with the NRIs being used by the Gov-
ernment of India largely as a code name for economic investment.
6 Parvati Raghuram and Ajaya Kumar Sahoo
Social concerns with the situation of diasporic Indians was fairly
limited (Lall 2001). In academic debates in India too, the notion of
diaspora was rarely deployed. In 1989, for instance, Sociological Bul-
letin, the official journal of the Indian Sociological Society, brought
out a special issue on the theme of ‘Indians Abroad’ (Vol. 38, No. 1,
March 1989) in which eight out of nine articles focused on Indian com-
munities abroad, but not a single one referred to them as diasporic.
Rather, scholars used words like ‘Indian immigrants’ (see Buchignani
1989; Mehta 1989; Sharma 1989) or ‘overseas Indians’ (see R.K. Jain
1989; P.C. Jain1989).
In 1994, an ‘International Conference on Indian Diaspora’ was
organised by the University of Hyderabad with the objective of open-
ing up of a centre exclusively for the study of the Indian diaspora. It
was in this conference that terms such as ‘diaspora’ and ‘transnational
Indians’ came to be used (Nadarajah 1994). The demands for the or-
ganised study of the ‘Indian diaspora’, their expectations, their con-
tributions and scope of collaboration in various sectors of society,
resulted in the establishment of the Centre for the Study of Indian
Diaspora under the Area Studies Programme of the University Grants
Commission (UGC) in 1996 at the University of Hyderabad. The idea
of creating the ‘Centre’ exclusively for Indian diaspora studies was par-
ticularly taken up by Professor Chandrashekhar Bhat—the founder
and director of the Centre—who was inspired by his mentor, Professor
Adrian Mayer of the School of Oriental and African Studies (SOAS)
at the University of London, during his visit to carry out research on
Indian ethnic associations in London.
The Centre today is one of the exclusive centres all over the world
devoted to the study of the ‘Indian diaspora’ through its teaching and
research modules. The Centre envisages research on the historical
context of the Indian diaspora during the colonial and postcolonial
phases, cultural heritage of diasporic communities, continuities and
transformation in culture, economy and political life, besides pro-
moting communication and linkages between India and the Indian
diaspora. In other words, the Centre is involved in the study of social,
cultural, linguistic, economic, political, geographical, literary and other
aspects of the Indian diaspora in its global context. The Centre has so
far organised three international conferences and two national work-
shops on the ‘Indian diaspora’.
Thinking ‘Indian Diaspora’ for Our Times 7
In order to commemorate a decade of its existence, to mark the
Centre as an International Centre for Study of Indian Diaspora that
would facilitate further research on the Indian diaspora, scholars
from all over the world were invited to contribute a paper for an edited
volume that focuses on the Centre’s broad objectives. The collection
of papers and its organisation largely reflects the choice of writers
identified by academics at the Centre. Reflecting the Centre’s multi-
disciplinary approach to the study of the Indian diaspora, a range of
academics—sociologists, anthropologists, historians, economists,
demographers, geographers, and management, educational and policy
researchers from different parts of the diaspora were invited to con-
tribute to the volume. The editors were then subsequently identified
by the Centre and so have only minimally shaped the discussions in the
volume. Contributors in this anthology examine (directly or indirectly)
issues such as labour, migration, gender, religion, ethnicity, identity,
globalisation and transnationalism. This book is thus divided into
four main sections, which accommodate and structure interconnected
viewpoints on the Indian diaspora.
READING THE VOLUME
The volume is divided into four sections. The division of chapters into
these sections is not wholly clear-cut. Broadly, the first two sections
emphasise the migratory movements that have led to the formation
of the Indian diaspora. They unpack the geographical scope of the
diaspora and highlight the different processes, opportunities and
constraints that the Indian diaspora faces in its different locales. In the
second half of the book, we move towards thinking of diaspora not
so much as dispersed people but as associational activities. Diaspora
here is what diaspora does. It is not based on historical connections
enacted through migrations, but practised through travel, rituals, film
and through literature. One could read the chapters in sections 3 and 4
contrapuntally against those in sections 1 and 2; juxtaposing them for
understandings of how the authors themselves tell the stories of the
diaspora, how they represent the diaspora. Equally, sections 3 and 4
may be read through the historical lens that the chapters in the first
two sections offer, making us read Indian authors for authorial pos-
itions, contexts and the histories and conditions of their migration.
8 Parvati Raghuram and Ajaya Kumar Sahoo
Sections 1 and 2 are divided up through a broadly historical peri-
odisation. Section 1 focuses primarily on diasporas created through
migrations during the colonial period—the chapters are all ‘haunted
by empire’ (Stoler 2006).1
They have their history in the imperial legacy
of British colonialism and the uneven social and cultural landscapes
that the populations whose movements were so forcefully shaped
by British policies then inhabited. Located in far-flung parts of the
empire, occupying a range of roles, they were often held together by
the conditions of their dispersal—the terms of indenture. Indenture
placed physical and cultural constraints on identifying outside of one’s
diasporic origins.2
Imperial machinations forced diasporic identifi-
cations through racial classifications. People were often required to
perform their diasporic affiliation, to be marked through their migra-
tory trajectory, to submerge other vectors of difference and to play out
theimaginedmarkersofdiasporicculture.TobeIndianwasthereforeto
perform an imagined version of Indianness. It was therefore also as
much about not being white, African, Sinhalese, Fijian or West Indian,
although the extent and the ways in which the racial classification op-
erated clearly varied. In an environment where a number of races were
closelyjuxtapositioned,Indiandiasporicsoftenoccupiedanin-between
space between the coloniser and the territorially-based colonised. They
formed, for instance, a middle strata between the British and the black
Africans in many parts of Africa. This liminality, however, also disrupts
the bodies and the boundaries of those who are to be kept apart—as
Mehta (Chapter 21) explores in her analysis of mixed-race dougla
identity. As such, the specificity of the indentured system in shaping
old migration receives much attention amongst diasporic thinkers
writing from these regions. Moreover, it forcefully shapes diaspora
and diasporic thinking in these territories.
For much of this diaspora, decolonisation marked a point at which
their (hi)stories grew further apart as they came to be influenced by the
policies and practices of postcolonial governments. The world that
diasporic Indians inhabited was inalienably and differentially altered
through decolonisation. Social changes such as the rewiring of reli-
gion and caste and gendered subjectivities were played out in a range
of contexts, from the individual through the family and to the state
both in the old empire and in India (also see Leonard, Chapter 12, and
Wilson, Chapter 20). The basis for citizenship and belonging, the right
Thinking ‘Indian Diaspora’ for Our Times 9
to work, access to the public sphere and opportunities for political ac-
tivism were also therefore realigned. More recent migrations from India
have produced a new set of issues for the old diaspora. For instance,
as Rai (Chapter 2) suggests, new migration streams, primarily of the
educated middle-class professionals in global industries are leading
to a complex reconfiguration of pre-existing stratifications within the
Indian diaspora in Southeast Asia.
Some of these emerging differences are evocatively outlined by
Padayachee et al. (2004) in their analysis of cricket in KwaZulu-Natal
between 1994 and 2004. They point out the ways in which struggles
over race still mark the game despite the official end of apartheid. At-
tempts at better representation of ‘black’ cricketers in effect opened up
space for Indians who played the game both because of lobbying, and
due to the increased access they had to the white middle and upper-
class spaces where cricket was fostered. As a result, in 2000–2001, the
category black had become virtually synonymous with Indians. At
the same time, increasing black African consciousness of these new
vectors of inequality has led to an unravelling of the political affili-
ations around black identity forged between different (non-white)
races in the struggle against apartheid. Moreover, the category Indian
too is fraying as caste and class affiliations find expressive space. These
narratives of strategic identifications with majority ethnic groups
during the colonial era, followed by a jostling for power among some
Indian diasporics in the post-decolonisation phase is a tale that is re-
peated in all the chapters in this section.
Given the weak links that such early migrants have with the Indian
subcontinent, it might be worth asking a common question about the
fate of Indians in the old diaspora. Many of these people (often en-
compassed within the term ‘PIO’) have tenuous links with India. When
faced with racialised targeting they have migrated again, but often not
to India (Srebrnik, Chapter 4). This story of further migrations by the
old Indian diaspora is picked up most notably by Srebrnik, and
Friesen and Kearns (Chapter 10), who focus on the political fallout
of indigenisation politics and the ways in which this has sparked new
migratory streams. The presence of diasporic populations from older
migration streams in new countries of settlement actively destabil-
ises the boundary between new and old diaspora. It asks questions
about where exactly the divide between the old and the new diaspora
lies, questions that should not be allowed to go away.
10 Parvati Raghuram and Ajaya Kumar Sahoo
Unlike in Section 1, the migratory imperatives that shape the dias-
pora in the chapters in Section 2 emphasise the agency of migrants
within the context of unfolding opportunities that they are faced
with. The agentic approach to diaspora suggests that diasporic be-
longing is much more of a matter of choice. The multiplicity and di-
versification of migration beyond the remit of the old empire, the
increasingly middle-class nature of migrants and the new issues that
arise for diasporic politics are all raised here. Asking ourselves what
makes the new diaspora ‘new’ also reminds us that it is not the sites
that are new but the conditions of mobility and the processes where-
by there is a ‘selection of migrants’ that is new (also see Raghuram,
Chapter 8). Moreover, some countries, as for example New Zealand,
have become countries of destination for both ‘old’ Fijian diasporics
and new (often skilled) migrants directly from India. A close look at
such spaces can point to the complexities of the claims to the ‘jargon
of authenticity’ (Goswami 2005: 223), to some essential ‘Indianness’.
It also points out the possibilities for new coalitions as well as emerg-
ing fissures within the Indian diaspora.
This section explores how diasporic affiliation is produced in a
context where racial profiling is subtler and the diversity amongst
migrants from India more marked. The chapters move between of-
fering narratives of continuity and expressing a desire to construct
identity through national affiliation and religious and cultural sym-
bols to those that question the nation, recognise that affiliation is con-
structed and spatio-temporally contingent. It must be said here that
like Sarker and De (2002) we find that the division between sections 1
and 2 are porous. Very often the subjectivities that are scripted in post-
colonial migrations draw upon hierarchies and privileges produced
through or at least during the colonial era. Thus, very often (but cru-
cially, not always) the educated postcolonial migrant leaving Indian
shores in the 1960s and 1970s was an unequal beneficiary of (western)
education and capital (financial, human, social and cultural) accrued
across generations during the colonial period. At the same time, the
postcolonial nation also constructs its own hierarchies and propels
its population to mobility in new and interesting ways.
Section 3 begins to move the discussion of diaspora away from the
social and economic contexts of diaspora formation to diasporic prac-
tices. It focuses on the ways and means of remembering and enacting
Thinking ‘Indian Diaspora’ for Our Times 11
diasporic belonging and the sites and spaces where such narratives
of belonging are performed. The chapters explore these issues as they
are played out through texts, rituals such as pilgrimages, through
building temples and over the Internet. Pandurang (Chapter 13) also
suggests that these forms of identification are already in motion be-
fore migration, produced in the social and cultural contexts of an
ever-changing India. Importantly for this volume, this section also
begins to unpack various normative assumptions that are at play in
some readings of the ‘Indian diaspora’ by seeing diasporic belonging
as constructed, contested and contradictory. It forcefully reminds us
that the notion of an ‘Indian diaspora’ is itself problematic because
as Mallapragada (2006: 225) reminds us ‘it is an uncritical descriptor
of diverse communities with varied and overlapping histories of con-
nections to, and interests in, India’ and the many other geographical
spaces over which the diaspora is dispersed.
Section 4 moves on to explore some representational tactics taken
upon, by and for the diaspora. It explores the mediated nature of dias-
poric affiliations through a range of media—performance of plays,
films and literary texts. Some chapters explore the authorial and dir-
ectorial strategies involved in producing texts while others offer a
close reading of the texts for how they present, produce and displace
diasporic thinking. In both sections 3 and 4, the patriarchy and het-
eronormativity of dominant constructions of the diaspora are care-
fully unpicked. Focusing on the experiences and the imaginaries of
these subaltern diasporics, those whom Jamil Khader (2003) recognises
as lacking ‘a genuine sense of home as women, colonials, and second-
class citizens in both insular and metropolitan spaces’ can perhaps
help to transform diasporic thinking. She argues that these subal-
tern cosmopolitans can use their marginality and appropriation with-
in hegemonic versions of nation and community to interrogate their
meanings and to ‘reintegrate them within transnational and transethnic
communities of struggle, rather than within the exclusive borders’ of
diaspora (Khader 2003: 63).
Shuffling the chapters can produces a different thematically ar-
ranged reading of the volume. In particular, the traumatic turf on which
religious politics is played out appears repeatedly through the differ-
entsectionsofthebook.Oneformofreligiousdiasporawhichiscentred
round religion is explored by Genn in her chapter on the Chishtiyya
12 Parvati Raghuram and Ajaya Kumar Sahoo
diaspora (Chapter 11). But a much stronger theme in this volume is
the power of resurgent Hindu nationalism and the minoritisation
of Muslims in India that is echoed, sometimes amplified, abroad. The
Indian diaspora seems on such occasions to slip into or to be performed
as a Hindu diaspora. Building temples (Miller, Chapter 14)) and cele-
brating festivals (Vadivella Belle, Chapter 3, and Friesen and Kearns,
Chapter 10) are events for performing Indianness but this can be an
exclusionary India, which is produced through selective traditions,
imperfect memories and overvalorised auratic values. The politics
of such a re-versioned Hinduism is both transported across borders
(through films as Bhattacharya shows us) and appropriated in the
diaspora (see De, Chapter 16) reconfiguring religion across diasporic
space (Vadivella Belle, Chapter 3). However, increasing Islamophobia
in the United States (US) has also opened up the space for new types of
political engagements which cross-cut origin, religion or ethnicity
as Maira explores (Chapter 6). This hopeful vein is also reflected in
Vadivella Belle’s reading of the cross-class possibilities of affiliation
as expressed in the celebration of the festival of Thaipusam.
The complexities of identification are also picked up through other
vectors in several of the chapters in this volume. Geoffrey Burkhart ex-
plores the complexity of gay positioning among South Asians living
in the US. The heteronormativity of the imagined nation state spills
out (and is often reinforced) in the diaspora so that gay South Asian
men have limited possibilities for affiliating with the diaspora. Pub-
lic discourses of the diaspora also too easily posit the Indian diaspora
as a patriarchal formation. The chapters offer us glimpses into the
lives of women with very different territorial identification in India,
migratory trajectories and destinations in the countries of settle-
ment (see Raghuram, Chapter 8, and Mehta, Chapter 21). The women
have moved alone, set up businesses, worked as professionals, brought
up their daughters (and sons) and lived middle-class lives that in so
many ways resemble those of Indians in India and nationals in the
countries where they have settled. Sam Naidu (Chapter 18) and Jaspal
Kaur Singh (Chapter 19), focusing on the writings of women authors
similarly offer a challenge to any simplistic notion of female agency
in the diaspora. Some chapters highlight the subtle processes where-
by patriarchal values are being produced in the diaspora through
(mis)appropriations of classical texts (De, Chapter 16) while others
Thinking ‘Indian Diaspora’ for Our Times 13
show how complex femininities are represented through diasporic
texts (Wilson, Chapter 20, and Mehta, Chapter 21) and in pre-migrant
contexts (Pandurang, Chapter 13). And the significance of women in
producing a sense of home through their socially reproductive ac-
tives such as teaching language (Barn, Chapter 9) too are aired here.
Together they begin to unsettle many of the ‘melodramatic postures’
(Puwar 2003) that have been adopted in writings around South Asian
women in the diaspora. They point to how those who fall beyond ‘the
patriarchal and heterosexual configuration of both nation and dias-
pora’ (Gopinath 2003: 265) make and remake the diaspora.
The agency of diasporic individuals in shaping the diaspora is
also taken up by Gottschlich (Chapter 7) and Basdeo and Samaroo
(Chapter 5). They explore the contextual and structural conditions
that have enabled the emergence of charismatic individuals and pol-
itical groups who have actively produced an Indian diaspora through
their interventions in the politics of the region as well as their dias-
poric political engagements (also see Vadivella Belle, Chapter 3).
Diasporic affiliation then becomes (at least partially) an outcome of
individual and collective agents, who have ‘identities and histories
inevitably bound up in diverse fragments of culture and place’ (Gandhi
2002: 359) rather than an expression of primordial connections. These
chapters also attempt to explore the contexts in which these indi-
viduals and organisations have emerged, so that their agency is not
overburdened. In the context of Malaysia, Vadivella Belle pays atten-
tion to the ways in which diaspora politics only provided a route to
political gain for a few, particularly upper-class people and the con-
testations over leadership that this sometimes provoked. This is cru-
cial because as Yuval-Davis argues:
It is important to recognize, however, that such political agents struggle
both for the promotion of their specific projects in the construction of their
collectivity and its boundaries and, at the same time, use these ideologies
and projects in order to promote their own power positions within and out-
side the collectivity. The politics of belonging includes also struggles
around the determination of what is involved in belonging, in being a
member of a community, and of what roles specific social locations and
specific narratives of identity play in this. As such, it encompasses con-
testations both in relation to the participatory dimension of citizenship
as well as in relation to issues of the status and entitlements such member-
ship entails. (Yuval-Davis 2006: 205)
14 Parvati Raghuram and Ajaya Kumar Sahoo
These contestations are also significantly shaped by the state and
its policies and politics. The forms of citizenship offered to Indian
diasporics is rapidly multiplying with domicility conferring differ-
ential rights both in countries of settlement and in India (Raghuram,
Chapter 8). Transnationalism is, however, unsettling the definitions
of domicility as exemplified in the case of Indian migrants to the Gulf,
so that citizenship is becoming territorially sensitive to the conditions
of settlement in countries of destination. Claims to citizenship and be-
longing are also being played out in new sites—cyberspace, being one
such site for enacting emerging ephemeral collectivities.
Unsurprisingly, memory is a strong basis around which these col-
lectivities are imagined and therefore a reccurring theme throughout
the volume. Auratic memories of smells (Miller), of buildings and land-
scapes (Genn, Miller and Wilson), of rituals (Vadivella Bella), of texts
(De) and of everyday socialities played out in schools (Leonard) and in
families (Mehta and Singh) are selectively remembered, valorised
and reconfigured in producing the Indian diaspora. To sum up, the
multiple meanings and theoretical takes on diaspora that are outlined
in the first part of this introduction are displayed in the volume. Dias-
pora is analysed through a range of lenses from migration, to ethnicity,
citizenship, cultural continuity and conscious political affiliation/
disaffiliation, reflecting the diversity of viewpoints of authors who
work in this field.
MOVING ON
The volume is not and cannot be comprehensive so the lacunae in
it are many. In this section we briefly pick up a few issues/questions
that would have interested us from our own positionings and invest-
ments that we feel have not found space in the volume.
First, in our take on the Indian diaspora, the book leaves unexplored
other entanglements that ‘do’ and ‘undo’ India. How do questions of
diaspora look when the homeland does not exist except through dias-
poric struggles? It asks difficult questions such as how are diasporic
funds and support deployed at home to fight for a homeland. And
there may be no agreement amongst those involved in the struggle
as exemplified by the case of the Kashmiri diaspora caught between
Thinking ‘Indian Diaspora’ for Our Times 15
a secularist independence movement and those who seek independ-
ence under the aegis of Pakistani protection or for Islamic rule. These
troubled stories of diasporic affiliations that unsettle the boundaries
of India are left unexplored here.
These boundaries are also disrupted through flows of communica-
tion and the Internet has played its part in shaping diasporic thinking.
At best it has produced a comfortable space for diasporic belonging
(Mitra 2005), at worst a space for a novel Internet Hindutva (Rajagopal
2000). The information technology engineers who sojourn and
settle in the US have also participated in producing ‘cybershakas’ or
electronic networks of revivalist Hindu organisations that wipe out
any secular narratives of India but rather posit ‘India’ in a reinvigorated
Hindu historicism. However, reading the diaspora is most politically
productive when embedded in the reality of its production, circulation
and appropriation. The shape of these imagined communities is in-
fluenced by who actually gets online because cyberspace reflects,
reproduces and refracts inequalities in the ‘real’ world, unsettling
the divide between the virtual and the real through the continuities
and discontinuities between these two media. Many of the vectors of
inequality that are being played out on the Internet have their routes
in colonialism and access to English as this language has become the
preferred medium for producing the Internet. However, these in-
equalities are not simply mapped on from real communities to virtual
communities. New forms of stratification are also emerging. The pro-
cesses of selectivity that shape diasporic notions of belonging, a theme
that reverberates across the volume, are visible in the Internet diaspora
too. For instance, some of the techno-savvy English-educated Indian
diasporic élite in the US have used the cyberspace to reproduce and
circulate texts in some Indian languages, reconfiguring keyboards
and facilitating online reproduction as well as translation of regional
texts. These texts have been a part of and have led to a complex re-
vivalism of regional diasporas, around which cyber-identification has
become increasingly important. Digital knowledge is producing new
versions of élitism but this is also being contested from diverse spots
within cyberspace. The tension between the construction of particu-
laristic belonging and transnational affiliation as played out in the
new digital media has not been adequately addressed here.
16 Parvati Raghuram and Ajaya Kumar Sahoo
Religious identification and its role in constructing the imaginary
of India receives some attention in this volume. Less fully explored is
the role of religion in the Indian diaspora in shaping politics within
India. In particular, each religion is treated separately rather than to-
gether. Moreover, religion too gets rescripted through its travels ab-
road. These are pressing issues for the Indian diaspora as a ‘powerful
diaspora Hindutva ethnic nationalist discourse of the homeland, and
equally powerful Hindutva ethnic nationalist discourses of minorities
within both the homeland and in the West’ jostle for space (Bhatt and
Mukta 2000: 438). As Bhatt and Mukta go on to argue the ‘unequal
power geometry of globalization that is concentrated in the west can
create significant advantages for diaspora Hindutva movements in
their relationships with India. The formation of absolutist religious
identities by claimed representatives of some minorities in the west is
a will to power from which they thence have a privileged stake in de-
ciding the future of absolutely less powerful minorities in the home-
land’ (Bhatt and Mukta 2000: 438). Within these conditions we must
ask how beleaguered religious identifications such as those of Islam
should be folded into thinking the ‘Indian diaspora’ (see, for instance,
Bal and Sinha-Kerkhoff 2005).
Another set of issues that interest us but are not fully explored here
is how the diaspora influences and shapes place-based subjectivities in
India. For instance, Section 4 of the volume focuses on writers from
the Indian diaspora but there is little here on the relationship between
diasporic authors and authors in India writing about the diaspora. As
Lisa Lau (2005: 242) suggests ‘It is ironic that these articulate diasporic
South Asian women writers may be so much more effective than
their South Asian counterparts in marketing their ideas and ideals,
that they almost consign the home South Asians to the position of
subalternism.’ So we may well ask how do diaspora stories configure
the immobile? How do they become emplaced and what forms of
displacement do they feel as diasporic money, goods and people flow
in and through their spaces (Chu 2006). What are the dangers of over-
valorising stories of mobility and diaspora? How do we unsettle the
increasing privileging of metropolitan diasporic writers and the siting
of the metropolis as the place where we can be ‘properly postcolonial’?
(Donnell 2005: 479).
A number of chapters pose questions about the re-fashioning of
land in the construction of identity amongst migrants—the role it
Thinking ‘Indian Diaspora’ for Our Times 17
played in legitimising their presence and how this is disrupted by
new narratives emerging after decolonisation. Writing about inter-
nal migration of Syrian Christians in Kerala, Varghese (2006) suggests
that the ‘metamorphosis of the landscape of Malabar was the narrative
locus on which the production and delineation of the migrant identity
was made possible. The fashioning of such a common collectivity was
also realised through the binary exercise of homogenising all inter-
nal divergences within the migrant community and a systematic
othering of the indigene. The indigenous people were most often
viewed by the migrants as un-enterprising, un-civilised and foolish.
They are portrayed as untouched by the capitalist logic of rational in-
vestment and accumulation’ (Varghese 2006: 246). Yet, most of the
chapters in this book stop short of exploring how the migrants and
the indigenes were discursively constructing each other in the com-
plex matrix of colonial and postcolonial nations into which Indians
moved as part of indenture. Identifying the bases for these dis/iden-
tifications might be one route to producing a politics that cuts across
and reworks these differences, to help migrants and indigenes imagine
a new shared relationship with land.
This volume addresses but also hopefully leaves open many ques-
tions: What is going on in the Indian diaspora? How do we imagine it?
How should we imagine it? Is diaspora a useful category for bringing
together such an assemblage? Is there an overdetermination of origin
as a marker of identity? These questions may be encompassed with-
in a broader one: ‘whither an Indian diaspora?’ We believe that these
questions are and should always be left open, in suspension for each
generation to re-interpret for their own time. It should be left unsettled,
open to circulation, dialogue and critique.
NOTES
1. The Indian government’s own report of the high-level committee (Ministry
of External Affairs 2001) recognises the long historical tradition of movement
and counter-movement that shaped the economies and polities of some of the
kingdoms in the Indian subcontinent. Pre-colonial movements to South-east
Asia, to East Africa and to the Persian Gulf were not uncommon and the effects of
these movements on local cultural practices may still be traced, especially in
South-east Asia. This theme is briefly picked up in Rajesh Rai’s chapter (Chapter 2)
on the Indian diaspora in South-east Asia.
18 Parvati Raghuram and Ajaya Kumar Sahoo
2. However, not all the migration that formed the old diaspora was under the terms of
indenture, nor were they all labour migrants. Moreover, for many of the migrants,
even indenture offered opportunities to escape social and economic disadvantage
in India (Satyanarayana 2002).
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Sharma, S.L. 1989. ‘Perspectives on Indians Abroad’, Sociological Bulletin, 38(1):
1–22.
Sheffer, G. 1993. ‘Ethnic Diasporas: A Threat to their Host?’, in M. Weiner (ed.),
International Migration and Security, pp. 263–85. Boulder: Westview Press.
Shuval, J.T. 2000. ‘Diaspora Migration: Definitional Ambiguities and a Theoretical
Paradigm’, International Migration, 38(5): 41–56.
Sökefeld, M. 2006. ‘Mobilizing in Transnational Space: A Social Movement Approach
to the Formation of Diaspora’, Global Networks, 6(3): 265–84.
Soysal, Y.N. 2000. ‘Citizenship and Identity: Living in Diasporas in Post-war Europe?’,
Ethnic and Racial Studies, 23(1): 1–15.
20 Parvati Raghuram and Ajaya Kumar Sahoo
Stoler,A.L.2006.HauntedByEmpire:GeographiesofIntimacyinNorthAmericanHistory.
American Encounters/Global Interactions. Durham: Duke University Press.
Varghese, V.J. 2006. ‘Migrant Narratives: Reading Literary Representations of Christian
Migration in Kerala, 1920–70’, The Indian Economic and Social History Review,
43(2): 227–55.
Vertovec, S. 1997. ‘Three Meanings of “Diaspora” Exemplified among South Asian
Religions’, Diaspora, 6(3): 277–99.
Yuval-Davis, N. 2006. ‘Belonging and the Politics of Belonging’, Patterns of Prejudice,
40(3): 197–214.
Section 1
‘A New Form of Slavery’:
Indentured Diaspora
22 Brij Maharaj
Introduction
BRIJ MAHARAJ
The Indian diaspora may well be regarded as an international
phenomena—it has a presence in more than 100 countries glob-
ally. The chapters in this section discuss the roots of the contemporary
Indian diaspora that can be traced to the colonial domination by the
British and the exploitation of cheap indentured labour from the Asian
subcontinent in different parts of the colonial empire. In the nine-
teenth century, the British instituted indentured labour—a ‘new form
of slavery’ (Tinker 1974). The ‘indentured “coolies” were half slaves,
bound over body and soul by a hundred and one regulations’ (Joshi
1942: 44). In 1884, the British consul in Paramaribo stated that ‘the
Surinam planters … found in the meek Hindu a ready substitution
for the negro slave he had lost’ (Emmer 1986: 187). The chapters dis-
cuss the multiple forms of migration that accompanied indentured
labour and the political, social and economic effects of such migration
in order to explore the historical production of old Indian diaspora.
In Chapter 2, Rajesh Rai analyses the socio-political factors that in-
fluenced the Indian diaspora in South-east Asia (Malaysia, Singapore
and Myanmar). The Indian and Hindu influence in this region was
evident from the third century, largely through traders and religious
missionaries. However, it was during the British colonial era that in-
dentured Indians became visible in South-east Asia because of the
need for labour in the plantations and in port cities such as Penang
and Singapore. The indenture, kangany and maistry labour systems
‘ensured that the Indian community remained poor and exploited
with meagre wages and harsh working conditions’. In contrast to free
Chinese labourers, there were no opportunities for upward socio-
economic mobility for indentured Indians. Therefore, Indians have
largely remained as ‘minions of colonialism’ in the region.
24 Brij Maharaj
In Chapter 3, Vadivella Belle focuses on the experiences of inden-
tured Indians in the plantations of Malaysia. In common with the
South African experience, the Malaysian Indian community was
divided in terms of language, caste and ethnic origin, but the main
fissure was class-based between the minority professional, business
and civil service occupations and the masses in the plantations. A
numerical minority, Indians have also been relegated to the margins
of Malaysian society, both in terms of culture and religion, and their
‘economic insignificance’. An indictment against the Indian middle
class was their failure to support or assist the ‘forgotten Malaysians’.
The celebration of the festival of Thaipusam is used to illustrate a re-
surgent Hindu identity with global diasporic connections.
In Chapter 4, Henry Srebrnik focuses on the trials and tribulations
of Indian indentured labourers in Fiji. As in South Africa, access to
land was responsible for a great deal of conflict between the Indians
and the ethnic Fijians. Henry Srebrnik refers to colonial Fiji as ‘a
“three-legged stool”, in which indigenous Fijians provided the land,
Indians the cheap labour and Europeans the capital’. Politically the
ethnic Fijians were opposed to sharing power with the Indo-Fijians.
Both groups remain largely socially and spatially segregated, even
after living in the same country for more than a century. The Indians
wereviewedasoutsiders,andunderconditionsof ‘bipolarcompetition,
religion, ethnicity and “race” have become salient markers of power or
powerlessness’. An interesting issue that he raises is whether indigen-
ous rights supersede individual human rights.
In their chapter focusing on indentured Indian labour in the West
Indies, Sahadeo Basdeo and Brinsley Samaroo trace the life trajec-
tories of four Indo-Caribbean political leaders in the twentieth century.
In the colonial and postcolonial eras, there were tensions between the
colonial rulers, as well as people of Asian and African origin in the West
Indies. The different leaders tried to reduce these tensions, drawing
from eastern and western cultural and educational experiences. How-
ever, the ‘fear of a united protest movement galvanized the colonizers
into repressive action’. The authors argue that the ‘Indo-Caribbean
leaders were among the first to break the barriers of political isola-
tion imposed upon the people of Indian origin by colonialism and
indenture’. Subsequently, these leaders also enjoyed the support of
some of the local African population. Rather than developing a ‘blind
Introduction 25
loyalty to India’, there was an attempt to get the indentured labourers
and their descendents to identify with their ‘new janam bhoomi’.
There are certain common themes in terms of the indentured ex-
perience in countries such as Mauritius, West Indies, Fiji and Malaysia
in the nineteenth century. In the different colonies the indentured
Indians came as isolated individuals, not in family units, and men
were in the overwhelming majority. The labourers were housed in
shacks and huts with no privacy. There was no documentary proof
of ‘legal’ marriages. Yet, the indentured Indians were able to develop
stable families and recreate some of social and cultural values from
the Indian context. Their economic achievements have also left them
in contradictory positions with reference to indigenous populations
at whose expense the indentured system encouraged them to some-
times prosper.
It is evident from the different chapters that the Indian diaspora is
heterogeneous in terms of religion, education, language and regional
origins. In spite of their different backgrounds and their multiple spa-
tial locations, diasporic Indians also have some common features.
As pointed out by Jain (1993: 45) this includes the extended family,
as well as ‘sharply defined family roles and status based on patriarchy,
gerontocracy and the subordination of the individual to the inter-
ests of the family’, although these features are also constantly chang-
ing. The influence of religion and culture is very dominant. In the
complex dialectic relationships between migration, religion and na-
tionalism, it has been contended that migration, since it challenges
identity, often exacerbates a certain nationalism expressed by religion
(Van der Veer 1994).
Indians in the indentured diaspora have had varying fortunes.
The different chapters illustrate that Indians have had little polit-
ical influence in the different colonies. Although ‘they have not lacked
initiative and have sometimes resisted pressures, the history of the
Asian communities is largely one of accommodation to the prevail-
ing historical situation’ (Ghai and Ghai 1971: 5). As they attempted
to adjust in an alien and hostile environment they encountered con-
flict sometimes simultaneously, sometimes sequentially, with the
colonial rulers and the indigenous majority.
The different chapters in this section reveal that the nature of co-
lonial social organisation was largely based on racial lines with nascent
26 Brij Maharaj
conflict between different groups resurfacing periodically. This in-
evitably generated practices and outlooks which were antagonistic
and opposed to any form of inter-racial interaction. The Asians were
especially isolated from other indigenous groups (Ghai and Ghai
1965). Asian ethnic identities were influenced by segregation, eco-
nomic competition and through cultural ties in a variably hostile
environment (Clarke et al. 1990). According to many, Indians feared
losing their cultural identity and were inclined to be ‘over religious,
rigid, conservative, orthodox, close and restrictive …’ (Motwani and
Motwani 1989: 3). Rather than engaging with the indigenous major-
ity, the Indians often retreated into their cultural and religious cocoons
in the highly racialised environment. However, racism was clearly not
the preserve of one community. If Indians were prone to withdraw
into their own culture, other communities are just as much swayed
by racial considerations, and the case of Fiji is instructive.
By the time the colonies attained independence, Indians were a
significantforceintheeconomy(withtheexceptionofMalaya),butwere
often insulated as a community and marginalised politically. While the
colonial state fostered a collective Asian identity from above, this was
reinforced by impulses emanating from within the Asian community
itself. Caught between an antagonistic colonial minority govern-
ment and fear of the indigenous masses, the Asians confirmed their
cultural identity (Desai and Maharaj 1996). This cultural detachment
of Asians from the mainstream has ‘indirectly invited or contributed
to racial discrimination by the natives against Indians, which has
later turned into racial atrocity in several countries after their inde-
pendence’ (Motwani and Motwani 1989: 3). In the postcolonial era,
Asians ‘stood out as discordant, unassimilable citadels of exclusive-
ness’ (Bhatia 1973: 18).
A major challenge for the survival of Asians in the different dias-
poras in the postcolonial era was to reduce and transcend this cultural
divide (Bhushan 1989). In the colonial, postcolonial and contemporary
eras, the indentured Indians have primarily played the role of middle-
man minorities, often being portrayed as scapegoats and villains in
times of economic and political crisis. According to Blalock (1967),
the distinguishing feature of middleman minorities is the economic
role they play. Unlike most ethnic minorities, they occupy an inter-
mediate rather than a low-status position. They are generally found in
Introduction 27
certain occupations, mainly trade and commerce, but also as labour
contractors, rent collectors, moneylenders and brokers. They play the
role of middleman between producer and consumer, employer and
employee, owner and tenant, élite and masses.
The nature of colonial social formation which resulted in the dif-
ferential incorporation of the various racial groups, enjoying differ-
ent levels of rewards, set the stage for seeking a scapegoat and revenge
for long-suffering misery. After independence, the colonial racial
divisions and the associated and perceived advantages accruing to
Asians were challenged in various ways. There were also various
tensions and divisions, relating to class, caste, religion and language,
and associated changes with the passage of time and isolation from
India.
REFERENCES
Bhatia, P. 1973. Indian Ordeal in Africa. Delhi: Vikas.
Bhushan, K. 1989. ‘Indians in Kenya’, in J.K. Motwani and J. Barot-Motwani (eds),
Global Migration of Indians: Saga of Adventure, Enterprise, Identity and Integration,
pp. 53–55. New York: First Global Convention of People of Indian Origin.
Blalock, H. 1967. Toward a Theory of Minority Group Relations. New York: John
Wiley.
Clarke, C., C. Peach and S. Vertovec. 1990. ‘Introduction: Themes in the Study of the
South Asian Diaspora’, in C. Clarke, C. Peach and S. Vertovec (eds), South Asians
Overseas—Migration and Ethnicity, pp. 1–29. Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press.
Desai, A. and B. Maharaj. 1996. ‘Minorities in the Rainbow Nation: The Indian Vote
in 1994’, South African Journal of Sociology, 26: 118–25.
Emmer, P.C. 1986. ‘The Meek Hindu: The Recruitment of Indian Indentured Labourers
for Service Overseas, 1870–1916’, in P.C. Emmer (ed.), Colonialism and Migration:
Indentured Labour Before and After Slavery, pp. 187–207. Dordrecht: Martinus
Nijhoff Publishers.
Ghai, D.P. and Y.P. Ghai. 1965. ‘Asians in East Africa: Problems and Prospects’, The
Journal of Modern African Studies, 3: 35–51.
———. 1971. The Asian Minorities of East and Central Africa. London: Minority Rights
Group.
Jain, R.K. 1993. Indian Communities Abroad: Themes and Literature. New Delhi:
Manohar.
Joshi, P.S. 1942. The Tyranny of Colour—A Study of the Indian Problem in South Africa.
Durban: EP and Commercial Printing Press.
28 Brij Maharaj
Motwani, J.K. and J.B. Motwani. 1989. ‘Introduction’, in J.K. Motwani and J. Barot-
Motwani (eds), Global Migration of Indians: Saga of Adventure, Enterprise, Identity
and Integration, pp. 1–5. New York: First Global Convention of People of Indian
Origin.
Tinker, H. 1974. A New System of Slavery—The Export of Indian Labour Overseas.
London: Oxford University Press.
Van der Veer, P. 1994. Religious Nationalism: Hindus and Muslims in India. Berkeley:
University of California Press.
2
‘Positioning’ the Indian Diaspora:
The South-east Asian Experience
RAJESH RAI
Indians abroad have, of late, received widespread publicity in the
Indian media. Since 2003, the Indian state has joined the fanfare,
organising the annual Pravasi Bharatiya Divas to honour its diaspora.
It is now commonplace for Indians to remark on how well they have
done abroad. Others observe that non-resident Indians (NRIs) are the
‘new Brahmins’, the veracity of which is easily verifiable through Inter-
net marriage sites where grooms from the diaspora are most favoured.
Yet, such celebratory views have been shaped by the success of Indians
in the United States (US) and other western countries. Needless to say,
the Indian diaspora in the US, while heterogeneous in itself, reflects
only one facet of the diaspora, formed primarily from the movement
ofprofessionalsinthelatterdecadesofthetwentiethcentury.Elsewhere,
the Indian experience has been shaped by vastly different trajec-
tories, and in some cases is the outcome of contact spanning many
centuries. The position of these communities within their host societies
may differ considerably from that of Indians in the west. Accordingly,
this study analyses the socio-historical forces that have shaped an-
other silhouette of the diaspora—that of Indians in South-east Asia.
The presence of Indians in South-east Asia has a long history ex-
tending to the period before the Christian era. It is one of the few
regions, if not the only region outside South Asia, where the journey
of Indians has continued from the pre-modern, through the colo-
nial and into the contemporary age of globalisation. The Indian dias-
pora in South-east Asia is thus the outcome of many movements.
30 Rajesh Rai
Initially comprising merchants and traders, the advent of colonial-
ism saw the arrival of Indian labourers, ‘convicts’, imperial auxiliaries
made up of the colonial militia and administrators, teachers and med-
ical personnel. From the last decade of the twentieth century, Indian
professionals in the information technology (IT) and communica-
tions sector have added to this heterogeneity, particularly in Singapore
and to a lesser extent in Malaysia.
While Indian communities can be found in all parts of South-east
Asia, their presence is especially important in Malaysia, Myanmar
(known as Burma until the military junta changed its name in 1989)
and Singapore where they form significant minorities, and have
played a crucial role in the development of this region from the nine-
teenth century onwards. The vast majority of Indians arrived here as
labourers and auxiliaries linked to the colonial enterprise, which
in turn constructed the framework upon which they functioned in
these societies. This had repercussions on Indians in terms of their
relationship with the land on which they laboured, and in the way
they were perceived by other communities. Colonialism also left
important legacies, most clearly in the form of its unintended by-
product—nationalism—which would have a bearing on the post-
colonial relations between communities in the host society. Since
independence, however, the approach of each of these states towards
minorities, nation-building and economic development have been
marked by considerable difference, all of which have left an imprint
on the diaspora.
What follows is an overview of the early relations between India
and South-east Asia prior to the arrival of Europeans, an analysis of
the socio-historical conditions relevant to the establishment of Indian
diaspora(s) in Malaysia, Myanmar and Singapore under colonial
rule, and an examination of the development of these communities
after independence with a focus on the political, economic and so-
cial position of Indian minorities in these states.
CONTACT IN THE AGE OF MERCHANTS
Although the exact location of Kautiliya’s Suvarnabhumi is a subject of
academic debate, many scholars are of the view that the locus of this
‘Positioning’ the Indian Diaspora 31
abode, mentioned first in the third century BC, was within the geo-
graphical matrix of what is today South-east Asia (Lochan 2006: 189).
While evidence of the Indian presence in the region in the pre-Christian
era is scarce, the historical imprint of India on South-east Asia in
the early centuries of the first millennium AD is more conspicuous.
The cultural and religious significance of Indian merchants was evi-
dent in three ‘Hinduised’ kingdoms (Funan, Champa and Kambuja)
that ruled large areas of present-day Cambodia and Vietnam from
the first century to the thirteenth century (Pairaudeau 2006: 200).
Itinerant merchants and traders formed the mainstay of the Indian
presence in the region, although they were not the only arrivals. Draw-
ing from the Chinese annals Nan-chou I-wu Chih, the T’ai-ping Yu Lan
and the Wen-hsieh T’ung K’ao, Amarjiva Lochan speaks of immigrant
Brahmins who ‘falsifying the notion of taboo in sea crossing’ (Lochan
2006: 189) settled in various locations in Thailand from the third cen-
tury onwards. In addition to their considerable role in the courts of
isthmian Thailand, many natives in the region allowed the marriage
of their daughters to these Brahmins in an effort to induce them to set-
tle permanently (Lochan 2006: 189). Indian communities compris-
ing traders and religious ‘missionaries’ were also evident in Myanmar
from the second century (Than 2006: 168).
The Indian imprint was not limited to the countries that make up
mainland South-east Asia. During the early centuries of the first mil-
lennium, Java and Sumatra were inspired by Indian political, cultural
and religious ideas. While South Indian traders were particularly
prominent, Gujarati merchants were also prevalent in these parts.
Kernial Singh Sandhu writes that references of Gujarati contact
with South-east Asia can be found in ancient folk tales such as the
Jatakattavannana, the Ras-Mala and in old Gujarati ballads and
legends dating to the fifth century which tell us that:
Te Jae Jave, te kadi nahi ave
Ave to, sath pidhi baitke khave.
Who goes to Java,
Never returns.
If by chance, he returns,
Then for seven generations to live upon
Money enough, he brings back (Sandhu 1981: 49–50).
32 Rajesh Rai
Indian scripts, Hinduism and Buddhism affected the development
of language and religion in Java and Sumatra and the ‘continued popu-
larity of the epics, the Ramayana and Mahabharata, the magnificient
stupas in Borobudur, the Prambanan Temple in Yogyakarta and the
persistence of Hinduism in Bali are testimony to the connection with
India’ (Singh 2006: 195).
An outcrop of the growth of Islamic power in the Indian subcon-
tinent in the early second millennium was the spread of Islam to
South-east Asia. The popularity of Islam in coastal regions and amongst
mercantile communities in South India and Gujarat provided a spur
to the movement of Indian Muslim traders abroad. Further relieved
of religious and social constraints to long distance travel, and draw-
ing from the concomitant aims of fostering material gain alongside
the spiritual mission of spreading their religion, these Muslim traders
ventured in greater numbers to South-east Asia. Marco Polo who
passed through the region in 1292 recorded that Ferlac (Perlak) in
north-eastern Sumatra ‘was so frequented by Muslim merchants
that they converted the natives to Islam’ (Sandhu 1981: 52). Following
the power vacuum in the Straits of Malacca after the fall of the Buddhist
Sri Vijaya Empire in the fourteenth century, the pattern that had re-
sulted in the conversion of ‘Ferlac’ to Islam was repeated in many parts
of South-east Asia. Particularly important was the role of Gujarati
and Tamil Muslim traders in the conversion, in the fifteenth century,
of the international port of Malacca to Islam. Here the prominence of
Indians was reflected in the appointment of the Tamil Muslim trader,
Raja Kassim, as mantri. From Malacca, Islam spread to other parts of
the Malayan Peninsula and to the Indonesian Archipelago.
From Portuguese sources,1
it is clear that Indian movement to
South-east Asia at this time was certainly not limited to Muslim trad-
ers. Toma Pires, for example, informs us that in Malacca, Hindu mer-
chants of South India—labelled klings—controlled the bulk of trade
and had an important say in fixing the dues paid by merchants. Sandhu
further argues that it was the Chettiar Hindu trader, Naina ‘Chetu’,
who aided the release of Portuguese prisoners in Malacca in 1511 and
that non-Muslim mercenaries made up an important component
of Alfonso de Albuquerque’s militia that captured Malacca in 1511
(Sandhu 1981).
‘Positioning’ the Indian Diaspora 33
BRITISH COLONIALISM AND THE INDIAN DIASPORA IN
MYANMAR, MALAYA AND SINGAPORE
Although India’s influence on South-east Asia was considerable prior
to the arrival of the Europeans, Indians in the region were largely
transients, moving to and from the subcontinent to trade their wares.
Permanent settlement, while evident, was exceptional, on a small scale
and limited to key ports. Of those who settled prior to colonial rule,
many married local women and their descendents—known as jawi
pekan in Malaya—were largely assimilated into the local culture. It
was only after the advent of colonialism that substantial numbers of
Indians arrived in South-east Asia, particularly in Malaya, Myanmar
and Singapore—all of which were British colonies—where they came
to form distinct diasporas.
The British were relative late-comers in establishing colonies in
South-east Asia. Their desire to acquire strategic ports in the region,
particularly the Straits of Malacca, was aimed at securing the British
East India Company’s (EIC) trading interests on the India–China
trade route. These strategic outposts were also intended to safeguard
their position in India vis-à-vis other European powers that had either
established bases in South-east Asia or were seeking to do so. Of par-
ticular concern in the region were the Dutch who from the seven-
teenth century onwards had established a formidable presence in the
East Indies (contemporary Indonesia). Likewise, there was a need to
counteract the French, who were seen as the main European adver-
saries to British aspirations in India in the late eighteenth century.
Although the British had, by the early eighteenth century, estab-
lished an outpost at Fort Marlborough (Bencoolen), this settlement
was not financially viable because it was distant from the main trad-
ing routes in the region. The establishment of Penang as a colony in
1786, however, marked the beginning of a formidable British presence
in the Straits of Malacca. Further attempts at finding a base closer
to the centre of the trade route led to the founding of Singapore by
Stamford Raffles in 1819. The British position on the eastern flank
of the Straits was secured following the Anglo-Dutch treaty of 1824
which saw the exchange of Bencoolen for Malacca. Singapore, Penang
andMalaccaformedthePresidencyoftheStraitsSettlementsfrom1826
34 Rajesh Rai
and were administered as the ‘Eastern Presidency of the British-Indian
Government’ until 1867 when its administration was transferred to
the colonial office in London (Tan and Major 1995).
British attempts at ensuring the supply of raw materials such as tin
from the Malay states on the peninsula led to growing intervention
in local affairs. By the early twentieth century, Britain had taken over
direct rule of the federated Malay states through British Residents
and instituted indirect rule in the unfederated Malay states through
‘advisors’. The British expansion in Burma meanwhile was triggered
by the growing conflict on her frontiers with British India. Following
three wars, in 1824, 1852 and 1885, Britain was able to gain control
of all of Burma, making it a province of British India with the capital
at Rangoon.
Theneedforcheaplabourfortheresource-basedeconomyinMalaya
and Burma resulted in the colonial authorities ‘assisting’ through the
indenture, kangany and maistry systems in the migration of Indians
to these parts. The bulk of Indians (approximately 80 per cent) who
arrived during the colonial era were labour migrants used for work
in plantations or as coolies in ports such as Singapore and Penang.
Although the primary source of migrants to Malaya and Singapore
was from southern China, the British were cautious in ensuring that
they did not depend on a single ethnic group for labour. While this
created multi-racial societies, the colonial perception that ‘racial’ com-
munities possessed a group loyalty, ensured that stringent efforts were
undertaken to divide these groups. British employers were advised:
To secure your independence, work with Javanese and Tamils, and if you
have sufficient experience, also with Malays and Chinese, you can always
play the one against the other… In case of a strike, you will never be left
without labour, and the coolies of one nationality will think twice be-
fore they make their terms, if they know you are in a position that you can
do without them. (Kaur 2001: 189)
The vast majority of Indian migrants were from the Madras Presi-
dency as the Indian government refused to allow the emigration of
Indian labourers to Singapore and Malaya from other parts of the
subcontinent (Walker 1994). Lower-caste Adi Dravida labour from
these parts were also preferred in British plantations as colonial dis-
course in Malaya constructed the myth of the ‘docile’ and ‘malleable’
South Indian:
‘Positioning’ the Indian Diaspora 35
Of the people of the subcontinent the South Indian peasant, particularly
the untouchable or low caste Madrasi, was considered the most satisfactory
type of labourer, especially for light, simple repetitive tasks. He was
malleable, worked well under supervision and was easily manageable…
He was not [as] ambitious as most of his Northern Indian compatriots
and certainly nothing like the Chinese. (Sandhu 1969: 56)
The economic and political position of Indians in Malaya can be
traced back to the systems of migration ushered by colonial rule, chief-
ly the labour structure of the overlords. The indenture and kangany
system of labour recruitment that was implemented in Malaya ensured
that the Indian community remained poor and exploited with meagre
wages and harsh working conditions (Kaur 2006: 158–60). Colonial-
ism effectively ‘deprived the community of the economic foundation
necessary for a politically significant role’ (Muzaffar 1993: 212). The
decline in status was particularly stark when compared to the Indian
position prior to the advent of colonialism when they were respected
as traders and harbingers of religion and culture.
These ‘assisted’ systems of migration revealed clear features of slav-
ery, namely, the absence of free market mobility and even a psycho-
logical if not real sense of subservience that the labourer had towards
his employer. The control mechanisms existent within these systems,
alongside the meagre wages that encouraged the accumulation of
debt created a web that deprived Indian plantation workers the op-
portunity for upward mobility, a pattern unlike that observed in free
labourers like that of the Chinese in Malaysia who were allowed to
exercise some degree of influence over their livelihood.
Nonetheless, not all Indian emigrants to Malaya and Singapore
during the colonial period were labourers. The period also saw the ar-
rival of the imperial auxiliaries to Malaya and Singapore. While small
numbers of militia from Uttar Pradesh and Bihar were to be found in
Fort Marlborough, Penang and Singapore in the late eighteenth and
early nineteenth century, from the 1870s, the Sikhs undertook a key
role in law enforcement (Dusenbery 1997: 740). In addition, the British
also encouraged the immigration of educated Sri Lankan Tamils and
Malayalis to function as administrators, teachers, technical and med-
ical personnel (Rai 2006: 178).
The stream of Indian commercial migrants also continued to arrive
to the peninsula. Prominent amongst these were the Chulias (Tamil
Muslim traders) and the Nattukottai Chettiars who had an extensive
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le plaisir, à un camouflet inutile... Réfléchis!
—C'est tout réfléchi, mon oncle! fit Thérèse en domptant un sourire
dédaigneux... Je finis par penser comme toi... Il est plus convenable
que tu ne paraisses pas dans cette triste affaire...
M. Raindal cadet dévisageait sa nièce d'un coup d'œil défiant.
—Ho! ho! mademoiselle, nous sommes vexée, on dirait?... Je suis
encore à tes ordres... Mais, crois-moi, ne t'emballe pas... Considère
la question à tête reposée... Et je te parie une discrétion contre une
boîte de cigares que pas plus tard que dans deux jours, tu donneras
raison à ton vieux scélérat d'oncle!...
Il l'attirait entre ses bras et la baisant au front:
—Du reste, qui nous dit que cet engouement durera?... Ton père
s'est emporté, parce que vous le contrecarriez, et que les Raindal
ont horreur de la contradiction... Soupes au lait!... Sitôt retirées du
feu, elles tombent... Et tu viendrais ce soir m'apprendre que tout est
arrangé, que ton père va avec vous à Langrune, baste! je n'en serais
pas autrement étonné!...
Ils arrivaient sur le palier. Thérèse serra mollement la main de son
oncle.
—Oh! cette main en coton! protesta M. Raindal cadet... Voulez-vous
donner la main un peu mieux?
Thérèse lui obéit.
—Très bien! approuva-t-il... Bravo! A bientôt, mon neveu... Et sans
rancune aucune, hein?...
Thérèse descendit en se retenant à la rampe. Elle éprouvait dans les
jambes une faiblesse d'étourdissement. Ses idées s'emmêlaient dans
une accablante impression de défaite et d'impuissance.
Sous la porte cochère, elle s'arrêta, hésitante. Elle ne cherchait
même pas à définir son isolement, ni à élucider la grossière
défection de l'oncle. Elle se sentait hébétée, paralysée,
irrémédiablement vaincue.
Elle s'achemina à pas lents vers la rue Notre-Dame-des-Champs. Les
passants la dévisageaient, surpris par sa physionomie égarée, ses
yeux sans regard, son expression de douleur secrète. Chagrin
d'amour?... Ces gants de fil jaunâtres, cette robe en alpaga roussi,
ce chapeau de paille à prix fixe—et de plus pas bien jolie!... Non!
Une gouvernante congédiée plutôt...
Sans s'inquiéter de leurs coups d'œil, sans les voir, elle longeait la
façade des maisons, comme par besoin d'appui, au cas où elle
pâmerait. Mais, à l'angle de la rue Vavin, une brusque image, un
nom, l'immobilisèrent subitement: Bœrzell. Eh! oui, c'était la
suprême ressource, le suprême protecteur contre la catastrophe
prochaine, contre la ruine qui menaçait à bref délai le foyer familial!
Ses traits détendus par l'angoisse se vivifièrent d'un reflet d'espoir.
Elle pressait l'allure. En cinq minutes, elle fut rue de Rennes, devant
la porte de Pierre Bœrzell.
Au coup de sonnette, il vint ouvrir lui-même. Il était en bras de
chemise, sans faux col à cause de la chaleur, son cou gras et blanc
émergeant à l'aise hors du linge.
Il poussa un cri de stupeur en reconnaissant Thérèse, et vivement il
lissait de la main sa chevelure ébouriffée:
—Vous, mademoiselle!... Ce n'est pas un malheur qui vous amène?
Thérèse eut un sourire contraint:
—Non, monsieur Bœrzell!... Un service, un conseil à vous
demander...
—Vous permettez, mademoiselle?... Je passe devant...
Et, sitôt dans la pièce attenante au vestibule,—son cabinet de travail,
une minuscule chambrette dont livres et brochures encombraient la
table, les chaises, le divan,—il s'excusa sur la petitesse du local:
—Vous voyez!... Je suis bien à l'étroit... Et ma chambre est encore
plus bourrée de livres... Il faudra que je déménage un de ces jours!
Il débarrassait en hâte le divan:
—Veuillez vous asseoir, mademoiselle... De quoi s'agit-il?
Mais en même temps il s'esquivait du côté de sa chambre. Il rentra
sans tarder. Il avait endossé un veston et attaché à sa chemise un
col blanc avec une cravate.
—Voilà!... Je suis tout à vous... En quoi puis-je vous servir,
mademoiselle?...
Thérèse, avec mille réticences, recommença son récit. Bœrzell
l'entrecoupait de hochements de tête navrés. Mais l'égoïste accueil
de l'oncle Cyprien poussa au comble son indignation.
—C'est trop fort! déclarait-il... Non, c'est trop écœurant!...
—C'est cependant ainsi! riposta Thérèse... Vous saviez déjà une
partie de nos anxiétés, avant la scène de ce matin. Vous savez tout
maintenant!... Je suis venue chez vous comme chez un ami sûr... J'ai
en votre discrétion, en votre jugement, en votre affection, une foi
absolue... Répondez sans ambages... A notre place, que feriez-
vous?...
Bœrzell dressa les bras dans un geste désespéré:
—Ah! mademoiselle!... Vous me direz que je choisis mal mon heure
pour vous adresser des reproches... Pourtant vous conviendrez que,
si vous vous aviez été moins rigoureuse, moins impitoyable, nous ne
serions pas aujourd'hui dans une détresse aussi cruelle!...
—Comment cela? fit Thérèse.
—Oui, j'ai tenu ma promesse, je l'ai tenue religieusement... Jamais
je ne vous ai parlé mariage... Une foule d'occasions s'en offraient...
Je n'ai profité d'aucune... Je comptais sur votre bon cœur pour me
délier un jour de ce serment... Plus je pénétrais dans votre intimité,
plus mon espoir s'affermissait... Eh bien! je déplore ma patience, je
déplore ma fidélité... Si j'y avais manqué, je présume
qu'actuellement nous serions mariés... Et, une fois votre mari, je
pouvais vous secourir, je pouvais m'immiscer dans vos dissensions
de famille, je pouvais discuter avec M. Raindal, je pouvais le
persuader, le fléchir... Tandis que maintenant, qu'est-ce que je puis?
Rien, rien, moins que rien!... M. Raindal, aux premiers mots, me
désignerait la porte... Ah! mademoiselle, tenez, en voilà un cas, un
bien pénible cas, hélas! où ce mariage dont vous faisiez tellement fi
aurait pu devenir utile!...
Il marchait à travers la pièce, se cognant à la table, aux sièges qu'il
écartait ensuite de la main.
Thérèse murmura:
—Et, en dehors de ce mariage, vous n'entrevoyez pas de solution?...
—Non, mademoiselle! riposta fébrilement Bœrzell... Je ne suis ni
votre parent, ni votre allié... Je n'ai aucune prise sur votre père...
Il exhala un long soupir:
—Et moi qui me jetterais au feu pour vous, moi qui vous sacrifierais
tout, oui tout ce que vous réclameriez de moi, voyez un peu où j'en
suis réduit!... A vous renvoyer comme une pauvresse, comme une
étrangère qui implore la charité!... Il ne me reste même pas la
consolation de vous donner un conseil... Votre père est le maître...
Vous n'avez qu'à vous incliner, à le laisser partir seul si tel est son
désir...
Thérèse, à bout de forces, s'était mise à pleurer, la tête renversée
contre le dossier du divan, son mouchoir appuyé aux yeux.
—Et vous pleurez! poursuivait Bœrzell... Et je suis obligé de vous
laisser pleurer... Si j'osais seulement vous approcher ou prendre
votre main sans votre permission, je vous deviendrais aussitôt
odieux... Un ami, oui, mais un ami qu'on tient à distance, et qu'à la
moindre protestation d'amour on traiterait comme le contraire d'un
galant homme!...
—Non, monsieur Bœrzell!... balbutiait Thérèse entre deux sanglots...
Vous exagérez... C'est vrai, j'ai été très dure envers vous... Mais je
vous aime beaucoup... beaucoup plus que jadis...
Il s'arrêta pour la contempler. Elle le fixait sympathiquement de ses
yeux gris noyés de larmes. En un inconscient mouvement de
tendresse elle tendit vers lui sa main. Il avait eu un naïf recul
d'incrédulité; et, saisissant la main de Thérèse, sans s'agenouiller,
sans nulle démonstration de prétendant exaucé:
—Quoi, mademoiselle! fit-il d'une voix grave où perçait l'intensité de
son émoi... Est-ce que je me trompe?... Est-ce que je me méprends
sur le sens de vos paroles?... Vous voudriez bien, vous
consentiriez?...
—Je ne sais pas! soupira Mlle
Raindal à la fois opprimée par le
découragement et touchée par cette anxiété... Plus tard... peut-
être... Je verrai...
—Oh! merci! s'écria Bœrzell en pressant ardemment la main
fiévreuse de Thérèse... Merci, mademoiselle... Vous verrez, vous
aussi... Vous verrez comme je m'efforcerai à vous rendre heureuse,
tranquille...
Il la regardait avec bonté, de petits frissons de gratitude courant à
l'angle de ses tempes. Mais, d'un coup, toute sa figure se rembrunit,
et lâchant, sans rudesse, la main de la jeune fille:
—Au fait, non... Ce serait abuser de votre état, de votre désarroi...
Je ne veux pas d'un consentement que je vous aurais extorqué au
milieu du chagrin et des larmes... Notre mariage ne doit s'accomplir
que par votre libre volonté et dans la parfaite maîtrise de vous-
même... Plus tard, comme vous dites, quand vous aurez recouvré
votre calme, votre clairvoyance, si vous éprouvez envers moi les
mêmes sentiments, vous savez quel bonheur vous me causerez en
acceptant d'être ma femme... Jusque-là je ne désire rien de vous
que votre amitié... Nous ne sommes pas des héros de roman, ni des
sots, ni des détraqués... Il ne faut pas que notre union se conclue
par subterfuge, par surprise, par entraînement irréfléchi... Plutôt
renoncer à vous toujours que vous avoir conquise par ces moyens
médiocres... Et dans la suite, quoi qu'il advienne, je vous affirme que
ni vous ni moi nous ne regretterons notre sagesse d'aujourd'hui,
n'est-ce pas, mademoiselle?...
Il s'était planté devant Thérèse et l'interrogeait des yeux. Elle soutint
longuement la ténacité de ce regard, puis, d'un accent mélancolique:
—Vous êtes la raison même! fit-elle... Vous êtes le meilleur et le plus
loyal des amis... Soit!... Attendons... C'est effectivement plus digne
des vieux sages que nous sommes... Cependant j'aurais aimé à vous
prouver ma reconnaissance, à ne pas vous quitter, après ce que
nous nous sommes dit, sans une marque d'amitié...
—Bien facile, mademoiselle! repartit posément Bœrzell.
—Quoi donc?...
—Permettez-moi, de toutes façons,—que M. Raindal vienne ou non,
—de vous accompagner à Langrune. C'était pour moi une peine
réelle que cette villégiature qui allait nous éloigner l'un de l'autre...
Plus d'une fois, j'ai été sur le point de vous demander l'autorisation...
Et j'ajournais la demande par peur de vous déplaire... A présent, je
suis plus brave... Dites, me permettez-vous?
Mlle
Raindal derechef lui tendait la main:
—Quelle question, monsieur Bœrzell!... Mais avec joie!...
Cette fois, il s'enhardit à un baiser de remerciement. Thérèse, par
mégarde, s'était plainte d'avoir soif. Il se précipita vers sa chambre
et revint portant un plateau. En un moment il eut préparé un verre
d'eau sucrée où il versa quelques gouttes de rhum.
—Ménage de garçon, ménage de savant! grommelait-il par
plaisanterie en tournant la cuiller... Pas d'eau de mélisse... pas de
sels anglais... rien de ce qu'il faut pour recevoir les dames!...
Et, se corrigeant aussitôt:
—Chut!... Je me lance dans les allusions au mariage... Je ne me
rappelais plus que mon serment recommence...
Thérèse buvait avidement, en lui souriant des paupières. Elle
sursauta au timbre de la pendule, où tintaient les trois coups de trois
heures.
—Et cette pauvre mère que j'oublie!... Au revoir... Merci encore.
Merci de tout cœur!... A dimanche, n'est-ce pas? Peut-être y aura-t-il
eu du nouveau et du bon!...
—C'est mon vœu le plus cher, mademoiselle, répliquait
sceptiquement Bœrzell.
Il s'accouda à la fenêtre pour la regarder partir. D'un pas viril et
balancé, elle se frayait la route à travers les passants, avec ce port
de tête un peu hautain, que seuls donnent aux femmes la
conscience de leur grâce ou l'orgueil de leur pensée. Et Bœrzell avait
l'intuition que c'était plus qu'une jeune fille qui s'en allait là-bas: une
sorte de tutrice, de mère par l'intellect,—le vrai chef de la famille
Raindal.
Le tournant de la rue la dérobait à ses regards. Il referma la fenêtre.
Il se sentait la poitrine gonflée par un contentement glorieux. Leur
conduite à tous deux, la cordiale pureté de leur récent tête-à-tête lui
paraissait le fait de personnes non vulgaires.
—Nous avons été très chic! résuma-t-il en son dialecte de vieil
écolier.
Puis se rasseyant à sa table de travail, les yeux rêveurs, et comme
formulant un souhait:
—Si elle voulait! murmura-t-il... Quelle société pour moi! Quelle
épouse!... Car c'est un homme... un homme dans la plus noble
acception du mot!...
XVI
Devant le train qui allait l'emmener aux Frettes, M. Raindal, arrivé un
quart d'heure d'avance, faisait les cent pas en réfléchissant.
La plupart des compartiments restaient vides, et le quai solitaire
déroulait à perte de vue, sans un facteur, sans un camion, le tapis de
son asphalte grisâtre. La verrière du haut réfractait une chaleur
ombreuse et lourde. C'était ce moment de quasi repos, entre le
matin fini et l'après-midi commençante, où, dans les gares, sauf les
machines, hommes, wagons, marchandises, tout semble sommeiller.
M. Raindal se promenait la tête basse, les mains jointes dans le dos,
son grand panama blanc imperceptiblement rejeté en arrière. Il se
remémorait une à une les journées précédentes, ce pénible siège de
dix jours, dont il sortait enfin vainqueur, quoique confus, lassé,
meurtri. Et, par instants, il soupirait.
Ah! la semaine avait été rude! Vingt repas de bouderie, de silence
absolu, de regards détournés et de mines contrites! Dans l'intervalle,
pas un mot, la guerre muette des résistances qui s'entrechoquent
sans s'aborder, la parodie forcée de l'aise, parmi le malaise même.
Puis, la veille, une heure avant le départ de ces dames pour
Langrune, la dernière bataille: Thérèse et Mme
Raindal abdiquant
tout orgueil, venant affectueusement prier M. Raindal de les suivre,
essayant de suprêmes conseils... Un peu plus, et il leur cédait. Ses
refus s'atténuaient. Les liens de son serment craquaient. Un
imprudent aveu de Thérèse avait changé le sort du combat.
—Eh bien! père, j'en conviens!... répondait-elle à un reproche du
maître... Nous aurions pu, à la rigueur, nous montrer moins
nettement hostiles envers Mme
Chambannes, moins froides quand tu
parlais de ses réceptions...
A cette phrase, M. Raindal s'était senti soulevé par un regain de
rancune, un ressouvenir haineux de toutes les taquineries de jadis:
—Oui, tu en conviens maintenant! criait-il... Maintenant que tu me
vois ancré dans ma résolution, maintenant que tu aperçois l'étendue
de vos fautes... Et tu voudrais que j'y ajoute une impolitesse de plus,
que je manque de parole à Mme
Chambannes qui m'attend... Trop
tard! vous n'aviez qu'à vous y prendre plus tôt...
Il poursuivit, en grommelant indistinctement, des récriminations
vindicatives. Et d'intimes arguments le soutenaient. Supposé qu'il les
écoutât, ces dames, ne serait-ce pas encore à recommencer au
retour? Non, il leur fallait une petite leçon, un avertissement
exemplaire!... Brigitte, qui annonçait l'omnibus de la gare, avait
terminé le débat. On s'était embrassé glacialement, du bout des
lèvres, avec des promesses précipitées de s'écrire chaque semaine,
de se retrouver au mois de septembre. La porte avait claqué. Un
roulement de roues pesantes grondait en bas dans la rue. M. Raindal
était seul, sauvé, délivré de Langrune...
Sans cesser de marcher, le maître exhala un nouveau soupir. A
présent, il ne s'illusionnait guère sur la gravité de cette séparation.
Combien de ménages survivent à de pareils éclats? La malveillance
d'autrui s'en mêle, exacerbe le désaccord. Les griefs s'aiguisent de
loin, reviennent plus acérés; et lorsqu'on se revoit, on est presque
ennemis.
Eh quoi! aurait-il dû subir la tyrannie que sa femme et sa fille
tentaient de lui imposer? Aurait-il dû sacrifier une précieuse
sympathie, une amitié exceptionnelle à leur envie, à leurs préjugés?
Aurait-il dû aveuglément se plier à leurs ordres comme un coupable
repentant, au lieu d'y opposer la fermeté de l'innocence?
—Les voyageurs pour la ligne de Mantes, Maisons-Laffitte, Poissy,
Villedouillet, les Mureaux, en voiture! clamait un employé.
M. Raindal monta dans son compartiment. Un vieil homme d'équipe
fermait après lui la portière. Le maître remarqua sa ressemblance
avec l'oncle Cyprien.
«Encore un, grommelait-il, qui ne me molestera plus!»
Il s'était accoté dans un coin du wagon, son chapeau retiré, tout le
buste prêt à la sieste. La pensée de Cyprien le retint quelques
minutes éveillé. Jusqu'au dernier moment il avait redouté ses
harangues, ses anathèmes et ses malédictions. Mais non. La veille
du départ, à dîner, l'oncle Cyprien n'avait exprimé nulle opinion
violente en apprenant de la bouche du maître, la double villégiature
où se partageait la famille. A peine s'était-il permis une anodine
plaisanterie:
—Alors, mes bons amis, vous bifurquez?... Bah! si c'est votre goût...
Cela repose, quand on se voit l'année entière!...
Il paraissait presque gêné, ne quittait pas son assiette des yeux, et
n'avait repris sa belle humeur qu'une fois sorti de table... Un drôle
de corps, ce Cyprien, un cerveau bien fumeux et sur lequel toute
induction était fatalement téméraire!...
Ce jugement dédaigneux contenta pleinement le maître. Il
s'assoupissait peu à peu. Il ne se réveilla qu'à la station de
Villedouillet.
Sur le quai, Mme
Chambannes, en robe de batiste à fleurs roses et
souliers de daim blanc, lui faisait signe de son ombrelle. Elle suivit le
train jusqu'à l'arrêt et, postée devant le wagon, elle souriait au
maître tandis qu'il descendait le raide marche-pied.
—Ainsi, ces dames n'ont pas voulu? dit-elle malicieusement, après
les premières paroles de bonjour.
—Non, chère amie... Pas moyen de les entraîner... Du reste, je n'ai
pas trop insisté... La mer est fort salutaire pour Thérèse...
—Elles doivent me détester, avouez-le!
M. Raindal, qui rougissait, affecta de ricaner:
—Heu! heu! Je ne vous dirai pas que ce départ se soit effectué sans
certaines objections de part et d'autre... Ces dames ont leurs idées...
Moi, j'ai les miennes... Et vous savez que ce ne sont pas toujours les
mêmes...
Puis il ajouta d'un ton plus fanfaron:
—Seulement, elles ont pour habitude de respecter mes volontés et,
somme toute, la séparation s'est opérée mieux que je ne l'espérais,
malgré la scène regrettable dont, à Paris, je vous avais touché deux
mots... Enfin, me voici!... N'est-ce pas l'important?...
Il y eut une pause. Zozé, le visage railleusement songeur, s'était
arrêtée sur le seuil de la gare. Un tonneau de bois jaune attelé d'un
poney bai, à crinière rase, attendait contre le trottoir. Firmin, le valet
de chambre, qui se tenait à la tête du poney, salua discrètement le
maître.
—Tenez, Firmin! dit Mme
Chambannes... Gardez le bulletin de M.
Raindal... Vous vous occuperez de ses bagages, et vous les
ramènerez avec la carriole que j'ai commandée chez le loueur...
Elle s'installait dans le tonneau, assise de trois quarts, face à la
croupe du cheval dont elle avait saisi les rênes. Le maître prit place
vis-à-vis. Zozé caressait d'un léger coup de fouet les flancs du poney.
La voiturette dévala par la cour inclinée, tanguant au choc des
aspérités. Quelques curieux, campés au bord du trottoir, avaient en
la regardant partir un sourire à demi narquois.
Au bout d'un petit quart d'heure, la voiture s'engagea dans l'avenue,
semée de gravier, qui conduisait au perron des Frettes.
Des arbres l'encadraient et soudain la maison surgissait,—une vaste
construction moderne avec des parois blanches que tranchait, à
deux ou trois fenêtres, la tenture bise des stores.
Devant, une large pelouse était incrustée, dans les angles, de
rosiers, de dahlias et de flox variés en corbeilles. Puis aussitôt, le
parc commençait, sombre, touffu, sans bornes apparentes et
longeant, sur une longue distance, la route départementale dont une
muraille le séparait.
A droite, à gauche de la maison, des arbres encore s'enlaçaient,
masquant de leurs branchages la campagne d'au delà, formant une
clôture épaisse jusqu'en arrière du bâtiment, autour d'une autre
pelouse, semblable à un petit pré où le filet d'un tennis cintrait le
réseau de ses mailles flasques. «Pour jouir de la vue», comme disait
Mme
Chambannes, il fallait gagner le second étage.
—L'étage de votre chambre, cher maître, et juste, votre côté, en
face de la pelouse du tennis... Une vue superbe, vous allez voir.
M. Raindal la suivit dans l'escalier qu'emplissait une odeur d'iris.
Zozé poussa la fenêtre. Une grande rafale de vent doux entra. Le
maître accoudé au balcon contempla lentement le paysage.
Par-dessus les arbres, l'immensité de la plaine inférieure se
découvrait à l'infini. Les villages avec leurs clochers semblaient des
points topographiques marqués, comme sur la carte, d'un dessin
puéril. Sur la gauche, les coteaux adverses bombaient leurs pentes
quadrillées de cultures jaunes, brunes ou vertes. Et dans le bas,
sans qu'on la vît, on devinait la Seine dont une boucle au fond
scintillait en forme de serpe.
—N'est-ce pas que c'est joli? fit Mme
Chambannes qui, contre l'appui
du balcon, touchait de son coude dodu le coude de M. Raindal.
—Fort beau! déclara le maître.
Et il murmura, en tournant le regard vers Zozé:
—Je suis bien heureux, ma chère amie, bien content d'être près de
vous!
Elle remercia, de profil, par un sourire candide. A la pleine lumière,
la clarté de son teint s'avivait. On y discernait les subtiles nuances
finement superposées en un mélange diaphane. Le jour pénétrait la
batiste de sa blouse, et un reflet rose-pâle haletait sous l'étoffe. M.
Raindal, par devers lui, détailla tous ces charmes. Insensiblement,
sans le savoir, il appuyait son coude à celui de la jeune femme. Il
s'apprêtait même à saisir la main de sa petite élève—opération
toujours périlleuse qu'il ne risquait jamais que par un élan d'audace,
—mais, d'un coup, la porte s'ouvrit.
La tante Panhias entrait, escortée par un domestique qui portait sur
l'épaule la malle de M. Raindal.
Dès lors, jusqu'au lendemain, le maître et Zozé ne furent plus seuls.
La malle déballée, les visites se succédèrent: Mme
Herschstein, Mme
Silberschmidt avec une de ses cousines de Breslau, et, à cinq
heures, l'abbé Touronde.
On se réunit alors, à l'abri d'une sorte de clairière ombreuse,
encerclée de tilleuls et de basse futaie,—qui s'ouvrait dans le parc,
un peu après l'entrée, sur le flanc de l'allée principale. Au centre de
ce vide circulaire, le champignon d'une table en pierre était fiché
dans le sol.
On y déposa du thé, des gâteaux et des fruits glacés au champagne,
que Zozé puisait à l'aide d'une petite louche dorée.
Les dames s'étaient assises sur de confortables sièges en jonc, qui
avaient toutefois le défaut de crier au poids des personnes trop
lourdes. M. Raindal adopta de préférence un rocking-chair solide,
dont le balancement l'amusait.
La causerie se poursuivit à travers des sujets faciles jusqu'au retour
de l'oncle Panhias, qui rentra de Paris sur le coup de six heures et
demie. Au moment de partir, l'abbé Touronde avait obtenu du maître
qu'il viendrait, dans la semaine, visiter son orphelinat.
Le dîner fini, M. Raindal demanda la permission de se retirer. Il se
disait fatigué par cette journée d'installation. Mme
Chambannes
l'encouragea à s'aller reposer.
Avant de se coucher pourtant, il inspecta sa chambre. Tout y était
aménagé avec un raffinement parfait d'élégance campagnarde: les
meubles en frêne à poignées de cuivre, les cretonnes anglaises du
baldaquin et des rideaux, voire les simples cristaux de la toilette et
les sachets de lavande disséminés dans les tiroirs ou sur les planches
de l'armoire à glace.
Les draps du lit fleuraient l'iris, un iris plus grossier, mais au relent
plus sain que celui dont se servait personnellement Zozé. M. Raindal
huma avec persistance cette senteur insolite où baignait son corps;
puis il souffla d'un trait sa bougie.
Il allait s'endormir. Un bruit de pas, au-dessous, lui fit, dans le noir,
distendre les paupières. Qui était-ce? Sa petite élève, sa chère amie?
Quel flatteur et rare agrément de dormir sous le même toit qu'elle!...
A différentes reprises, le maître se retourna dans son lit.
Tumultueuses et indécises, mille images lui montraient Zozé. Il
soupirait, s'impatientait contre cette captivante insomnie. Le grand
air, probablement, la surexcitation du grand air! A la fin il s'y résigna.
Étendu sur le dos, il contemplait sans résister le défilé de ses
songeries fiévreuses. Elles s'accentuaient plus qu'il n'aurait fallu,
lorsque par bonheur le sommeil les balaya toutes.
Le matin, vers dix heures, Mme
Chambannes proposa au maître une
promenade en tonneau.
Ils partirent avec Anselme, le cocher, qui se tenait raide et
respectueux, malgré les cahots, dans l'angle de la charrette, près de
l'étui à parapluies.
La matinée était limpide et fraîche, de cette fraîcheur d'août, tiède
encore entre les ardeurs de la veille et celles de la journée, mais
d'été quand même, rassurée, et sans rien de frileux qui annonce le
froid.
Zozé conduisait, les mains hautes, les regards à l'aise et pivotant au
gré de la causerie, tandis que le poney trottait de toutes ses forces,
en secouant la croupe.
Vingt minutes plus tard, on eut atteint la montée sous bois qui
précède la minuscule forêt de Verneuil. Le poney se mit d'instinct au
pas. De grosses mouches jaillissaient en essaim sous ses fers.
D'autres se collèrent goulûment à son encolure ou à ses flancs
rebondis.
La futaie se diversifiait des plus harmonieuses couleurs. Clairsemée
en certains endroits, elle semblait toute blanche par les rangées des
minces bouleaux argentés. Plus loin, elle offrait des espaces
entièrement roses que la bruyère sauvage avait envahis. La masse
sombre des pins, qui dominait partout, se clarifiait aussi de jeunes
pousses vert tendre; et leurs fines aiguilles, apportées par le vent,
séchaient éparses dans la poussière.
Au retour, on fit halte dans la route qui traverse le bois. Le maître et
Mme
Chambannes s'assirent sur le talus où Anselme avait étendu une
couverture. Après quoi, Zozé tira son porte-cigarettes, en s'excusant.
A la campagne, n'est-ce pas? la correction peut se relâcher. Et puis,
dans un petit bois où on ne rencontre personne!...
Elle n'achevait pas cette phrase, que deux jeunes cyclistes
apparurent. Ils pédalaient sans hâte, côte à côte. M. Raindal,
aussitôt, se rappela avec humeur l'intolérant oncle Cyprien.
Les deux jeunes gens se désignaient Zozé d'un clin d'œil goguenard.
—Gentille! proféra distinctement le premier.
Cette remarque familière acheva d'agacer M. Raindal.
—Quel goujat! déclara-t-il, quand les bicyclistes furent passés.
—Pourquoi? riposta Zozé en projetant une bouffée... Il ne faut pas
se formaliser pour si peu, à la campagne!...
Ces trois mots lui constituaient, aux Frettes, une devise favorite, une
permanente justification de toutes les fantaisies qu'inventait sa
tristesse ou son désœuvrement.
Elle s'en autorisa, le lendemain, pour se priver, durant la promenade,
des services d'Anselme, dont la présence évidemment paralysait M.
Raindal.
—Très bonne idée! approuva le maître dès qu'ils furent en route...
D'ailleurs il ne servait à rien, ce garçon!...
Et il s'empara de la main de sa petite élève, si brusquement, si
violemment, que Notpou—c'était le nom, quasi égyptien, donné par
Mme
Chambannes au poney—exécuta sous le heurt du mors un écart
presque épouvanté.
—Tenez-vous donc tranquille, cher maître! gronda Zozé qui ramenait
la bête dans l'allure... Vous effrayez Notpou... Vous allez nous faire
verser!...
—Il y avait si longtemps! bredouilla M. Raindal.
Elle esquissait un sourire d'indulgence. Le maître, soudain enhardi,
interrogea de la voix distraite qu'il employait à ces questions:
—Et ces messieurs de Meuze?... Vous avez de leurs nouvelles?...
Mme
Chambannes répliqua, avec un effort pour contenir le sang
qu'elle sentait fuser vers ses joues:
—Aucune!... Je crois qu'ils sont à Deauville jusqu'à la fin du mois,
comme je vous l'ai dit l'autre semaine... Ils devaient y arriver la veille
de mon départ...
M. Raindal, les mains pendantes au bout des bras, la fixait d'un
studieux regard:
—Alors ils ne viendront pas ici?...
—Pas que je sache, pendant le mois d'août, repartit Zozé qui avait à
demi maîtrisé sa rougeur... Et après, ce sera la chasse... Ainsi, vous
voyez!...
—Parfaitement! murmura le maître, tandis qu'au dedans de lui-
même il interpellait avec rage Thérèse.
Ah! qu'il l'eût souhaitée là, pour un instant seulement, à portée
d'entendre! Voilà comme on accuse et comme on calomnie, sans
preuves, sur des impressions jalouses et incertaines! «Une dame qui
a publiquement un amant!» se redisait M. Raindal. Publiquement! Un
amant! Où cela?... A Deauville peut-être! (Car peu à peu le maître
avait circonscrit ses soupçons, rassemblé toute leur vigilance sur la
tête de Gérald, l'unique jeune homme, au demeurant, que vît
fréquemment Mme
Chambannes.) Oui, à Deauville, à cinquante lieues
des Frettes, délaissant ses amours durant un mois et plus! Un bel
amant, en vérité!... Quelle misère et quelle injustice! Il eut un
ricanement de mépris.
—Vous riez, cher maître? interrogeait Mme
Chambannes.
Pour toute réponse d'abord, il prit doucement la main droite de Zozé
qui, au-dessous de la main conductrice, retenait l'extrémité des
rênes, et, l'élevant jusqu'à ses lèvres:
—Je ris, dit-il entre deux baisers, je ris de la méchanceté, ou plus
exactement, de la sottise humaine!
Bientôt le programme des journées se régularisa. Lorsque la chaleur
n'y faisait pas obstacle, le matin était réservé aux promenades en
tonneau.
On fuyait les parages mondains qui, au delà de Poissy, avoisinent
Saint-Germain. On s'acheminait plutôt, selon le cours de la Seine,
vers Pontoise, ou même vers Mantes: régions accidentées,
montueuses et souvent grandioses dont, comme Mme
Chambannes,
le maître s'était épris.
Le vent y roule ses amples ondes à travers plateaux et collines, avec
des saveurs fortes qu'on croirait issues de la mer. Parfois, au sommet
d'un chemin encaissé qui monte sous l'ombrage, une perspective
inattendue étale des espaces énormes, des forêts, des routes entre-
croisées, la largeur du fleuve, un gros bourg, des bœufs dans une
prairie, des vignes sur un coteau, tout l'imprévu complexe des
campagnes provinciales, loin de Paris, loin de la banlieue...
Le maître et Mme
Chambannes partaient donc vers neuf heures et ne
rentraient que pour déjeuner. D'autres jours, afin de parer aux
médisances, ils emmenaient l'abbé Touronde.
M. Raindal et l'abbé occupaient une banquette. Zozé, sur l'autre,
conduisait.
Un jeudi qu'ils avaient, tous trois, poussé jusqu'à Mantes où le
maître désirait acheter une paire de souliers jaunes, leur entrée fit
sensation. L'étrangeté de la voiture, la grâce mutine de Mme
Chambannes, les cheveux blancs de M. Raindal et la soutane de
l'abbé s'étaient accumulés pour frapper les curieux. Devant la porte
du bottier, des gamins avaient entouré le tonneau. Les boutiquiers
du voisinage étaient sortis sur le pas de leur magasin et
échangeaient des plaisanteries. L'ensemble de ces émotions
populaires fut résumé en un court filet anonyme du Petit Impartial
de Seine-et-Oise. Nul nom n'y était imprimé. Mais on ne pouvait se
méprendre au sens de l'allusion, au titre de l'article: Suzanne, ni à
l'âpreté déployée par le rédacteur contre «certains ecclésiastiques
amis des orphelins», dont la masse, à ne s'y point tromper, pâtissait
pour l'abbé Touronde.
A la suite de cette mésaventure, Mme
Chambannes évita désormais
les villes.
Du reste, les promenades lui étaient moins un plaisir qu'un passe-
temps entre l'heure de lire les lettres de Gérald—quand il en arrivait
—et l'heure de lui écrire.
Chaque jour, après déjeuner, elle s'enfermait chez elle pour lui tracer
de longues pages astucieusement rédigées de manière à stimuler
son inerte tendresse et sa jalousie somnolente. Pendant ce laps, M.
Raindal, remonté censément au travail, faisait la sieste à l'étage
supérieur ou, par imitation, écrivait quelques mots aux siens. Et
c'eût été une piquante comparaison que celle de leurs deux lettres:
Zozé se noircissant à dessein, multipliant les détails équivoques, les
récits d'épisodes où sa coquetterie s'ébattait parmi les admirations,
les hommages masculins, les regards fervents de M. Raindal, de
l'abbé, d'un passant, de tous les hommes,—et le maître, au
contraire, épuisant les exemples à la blanchir des suspicions, à
prouver sa candeur enfantine, sa vertu, son indubitable pureté.
On ne se retrouvait que vers quatre heures; et, selon la
température, on demeurait dans le jardin, ou l'on rendait visite aux
gens du voisinage: à l'abbé Touronde dont M. Raindal inspecta par
deux fois les petits orphelins, aux Herschstein, aux Silberschmidt.
Nulle part le maître ne s'ennuyait, sauf les cas où pour une course
jusqu'au village, des ordres à donner, une toilette à changer, Zozé le
laissait seul avec la tante Panhias. Il n'avait d'autre consolation que
de parler de sa petite élève. Il confiait à Mme
Panhias ses remarques
sur l'humeur variable de Zozé. Certains matins, elle paraissait en
proie au spleen, sans qu'aucun motif saisissable justifiât ces accès
de tristesse. A quoi donc les attribuer? Mme
Panhias, qui avait, en
secret, noté la concordance de ces crises avec le retard des lettres
timbrées de Deauville, répondait évasivement:
—C'est sa natourre comme cela! Que voulez-vous?...
—Je ne dis pas! approuvait M. Raindal... En effet!... Nature
rêveuse!... Nature essentiellement mélancolique!...
Et il se promettait de ne rien négliger pour distraire sa petite élève.
Une après-midi même, par crainte de la contrarier, il consentit à
jouer avec elle au tennis. Zozé défendait un camp, M. Raindal et la
tante Panhias coalisés, l'autre camp. Plus par essoufflement que par
respect de sa dignité, le maître, au bout de quelques minutes,
renonça à ce jeu. Il n'y avait que médiocrement réussi. Zozé, dans
un esprit d'abnégation, ne renouvela pas la tentative.
Elle aussi se targuait de sollicitude. Elle plaignait le pauvre M.
Raindal pour les tracas de famille dont il avait avoué quelques traits
significatifs. Et quand le maître, en sa présence, ouvrait une lettre
provenant de Langrune, elle ne manquait pas de s'informer si ces
dames étaient moins méchantes.
—Peuh!... La glace... toujours la glace!... Des questions sur ma
santé... des nouvelles de la leur... des compliments pour vous... des
baisers... Dix lignes à peine!... Lisez plutôt!...
Elle parcourait la feuille et se remémorant les lettres de Gérald—des
lettres dont le laconisme n'excédait guère celui du billet qu'elle lisait:
—Oui, cher maître! soupirait-elle... Comme vous disiez, l'humanité
est joliment bête!...
Ces jours-là, par pitié pour ces douleurs pareilles aux siennes, elle
opposait moins de rigueur aux baisers furtifs dont M. Raindal
poursuivait, en toute occasion, ses mains nues ou gantées. Elle
s'ingéniait à commander des plats succulents qu'elle savait devoir lui
plaire. Puis, le dîner fini, dans le salon, s'il ne s'endormait pas, elle
lui faisait la lecture—le journal, un ouvrage d'histoire—timidement,
de son mieux, avec des intonations inexactes, des erreurs de petite
fille, qui attendrissaient le maître au plus haut point. Ou, comble de
délices, elle acceptait son bras pour un tour au jardin, le long de la
pelouse, devant la terrasse du perron. Quand des nuages
chargeaient le ciel, au couvert de l'obscurité, M. Raindal, bravement,
baisait la main de la jeune femme qui le repoussait en chuchotant.
Une fois, il faillit hasarder un baiser plus proche, dans la nuque,
profitant du corsage à demi décolleté que portait le soir Mme
Chambannes. Mais au moment d'exécuter, une telle frayeur
l'empoigna, qu'il s'arrêta du coup sur place.
—Vous êtes souffrant, cher maître? interrogea Zozé.
—Non! fit-il se remettant en route... J'écoutais le vent dans le
feuillage!...
Quand il remontait vers sa chambre, après ces nocturnes équipées, il
avait peine à se mettre au lit. Les réflexions sourdaient en lui par
bouillonnantes cascades. Il comptait le nombre des baisers tolérés
par Mme
Chambannes depuis le matin: un dans le bois de Verneuil,
un autre dans le parc avant le déjeuner, un autre l'après-midi, dans
la chambre de Zozé où il s'était rendu sous prétexte de réclamer un
livre, un cinquième, un sixième, ce soir, au-dessous de la terrasse...
Additions enfantines et non sans vanité,—il en convenait
modestement!
Mais que pèsent les considérations métaphysiques auprès de
l'écrasante réalité de nos joies? A celle-ci il n'est de mesure que les
variations de notre sentiment. S'il s'exalte, ne dédaignons point ses
enthousiasmes; s'il s'abaisse et fléchit, quelle philosophie le
relèvera?... Ainsi méditait M. Raindal, avec un mépris graduel pour
les plaisirs spéculatifs.
Souvent il atteignait à l'extrême franchise, à ces examens solennels
où l'âme parle à l'esprit, comme l'épouse fidèle à l'époux. Eh bien!
oui, là, sous les yeux clairs de sa conscience, M. Raindal ne le niait
pas. Il était un peu amoureux de sa gentille petite élève. Il éprouvait
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Tracing An Indian Diaspora Contexts Memories Representations Parvati Raghuram

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  • 6.
  • 7.
    ii Tracing anIndian Diaspora
  • 8.
    Tracing an IndianDiaspora Contexts, Memories, Representations Edited by PARVATI RAGHURAM AJAYA KUMAR SAHOO BRIJ MAHARAJ DAVE SANGHA
  • 9.
    Copyright © ParvatiRaghuram, Ajaya Kumar Sahoo, Brij Maharaj, Dave Sangha, and Individual Contributors for their Respective Contributions, 2008 All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or utilised in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. First published in 2008 by SAGE Publications India Pvt Ltd B 1/I-1, Mohan Cooperative Industrial Area Mathura Road, New Delhi 110044, India www.sagepub.in SAGE Publications Ltd 2455 Teller Road Thousand Oaks, California 91320, USA SAGE Publications Inc 1 Oliver’s Yard 55 City Road London EC1Y 1SP, United Kingdom SAGE Publications Asia-Pacific Pte Ltd 33 Pekin Street #02-01 Far East Square Singapore 048763 Published by Vivek Mehra for SAGE Publications India Pvt Ltd, typeset in 10.5/12.6 pt MininbyStarCompugraphicsPrivateLimited,DelhiandprintedatChamanEnterprises, New Delhi. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Tracing an Indian diaspora: contexts, memories, representations/edited by Parvati Raghuram ...(et al.). p. cm. Includes bibliographical references and index. 1. East Indian diaspora. I. Raghuram, Parvati. DS432.5.T73 304.80954—dc22 2008 2008031598 ISBN: 978-81-7829-833-7 (HB) The SAGE Team: Sugata Ghosh, Abantika Banerjee, Mamta Singh and Trinankur Banerjee
  • 10.
    Contents List of Tablesviii List of Plates and Figures ix List of Abbreviations x Foreword by Sachidananda Mohanty xii Acknowledgements xiv 1. Thinking ‘Indian Diaspora’ for Our Times 1 Parvati Raghuram and Ajaya Kumar Sahoo Section 1 ‘A New Form of Slavery’: Indentured Diaspora Introduction Brij Maharaj 2. ‘Positioning’ the Indian Diaspora: The South-east Asian Experience 29 Rajesh Rai 3. Forgotten Malaysians? Indians and Malaysian Society 52 Carl Vadivella Belle 4. Indo-Fijians: Marooned without Land and Power in a South Pacific Archipelago? 75 Henry Srebrnik 5. Indo-Caribbean Political Leaders during the Twentieth Century 96 Sahadeo Basdeo and Brinsley Samaroo Section 2 The New Indian Diaspora Introduction Dave Sangha 6. Citizenship and Dissent in Diaspora: Indian Immigrant Youth in the United States after 9/11 131 Sunaina Maira 7. The Indian Diaspora in the United States of America: An Emerging Political Force? 156 Pierre Gottschlich
  • 11.
    vi Tracing anIndian Diaspora 8. Immigration Dynamics in the Receiving State—Emerging Issues for the Indian Diaspora in the United Kingdom 171 Parvati Raghuram 9. Indian Diaspora in the United Kingdom: Second- Generation Parents’ Views and Experiences on Heritage Language Transmission 191 Ravinder Barn 10. Indian Diaspora in New Zealand: History, Identity and Cultural Landscapes 210 Wardlow Friesen and Robin A. Kearns Section 3 Doing Diaspora: Identifications Introduction Parvati Raghuram 11. The Chishtiyya Diaspora—An Expanding Circle? 237 Celia A. Genn 12. Hyderabadis Abroad: Memories of Home 257 Karen Isaksen Leonard 13. Moving Beyond, Moving Ahead: Possible Paradigms for Accessing Indian Emigrant Subjectivities 271 Mala Pandurang 14. Immigrants, Images and Identity: Visualising Homelands Across Borders 284 Cynthia J. Miller 15. Identity Dilemmas: Gay South Asian Men in North America 299 Geoffrey Burkhart Section 4 Representations: Contestations of/in the Indian Diaspora Introduction Parvati Raghuram 16. Re-domesticating Hindu Femininity: Legible Pasts in the Bengali American Diaspora 329 Esha Niyogi De
  • 12.
    17. Romancing Religion:Neoliberal Bollywood’s Gendered Visual Repertoire for a Pain-free Globalisation 346 Nandini Bhattacharya 18. Women Writers of the South Asian Diaspora: Towards a Transnational Feminist Aesthetic? 368 Sam Naidu 19. Memory of Trauma in Meena Alexander’s Texts 392 Jaspal Kaur Singh 20. Meta-Mobilis: The Case for Polymorphous Existence in K.S. Maniam’s Between Lives 408 Bernard Wilson 21. Exilic Dispositions and Dougla Identity in Laure Moutoussamy’s Passerelle de vie (The Bridge of Life) 428 Brinda Mehta About the Editors and Contributors 451 Index 453 Contents vii
  • 13.
    List of Tables 2.1Indian Occupational Categories in Colonial Burma (1931) 37 2.2 Malaysia—Ethnic Groups as a Percentage of the Total Population (2000) 43 2.3 Singapore Residents by Ethnic Group (June 2005) 47 5.1 East Indian Immigration to the Caribbean, 1838–1917 97 7.1 Indian American Election Candidates, 2 November 2004 165 9.1 Languages Spoken by Parents to their Children (in %) (n = 84) 198 9.2 Languages Spoken by Children to their Parents (in %) (n = 84) 199
  • 14.
    Preface ix List ofPlates and Figures Plates 4.1 Fijian Government Soldiers Push Back a Crowd during the Coup in May 2000 86 4.2 Preparing for the Voters at a Polling Station in the General Election, May 2006 89 5.1 Adrian Cola Rienzi 103 5.2 Cheddi Jagan 116 10.1 Hindi Radio at Diwali Festival, Auckland 2006 211 10.2 The New Sikh Gurdwara in Auckland 223 11.1 Hazrat Inayat Khan, the Indian Sufi Master and Musician Who First Brought Sufism to the West 242 11.2 Children’s Theatre Programme at the Urs of Hazrat Inayat Khan in New Delhi, 1999 247 11.3 Participants from India, Australia, the US, Canada and Germany in a Retreat at Hazrat Inayat Khan’s Dargah in New Delhi, 2003 249 17.1 Amitabh Bachchan in Ram Balram, 1980 351 17.2 Amitabh Bachchan in Naseeb, 1981 351 17.3 A Still from HAHK! 359 Figures 9.1 Percentage Distribution of the British Indian Population in the UK 195 10.1 New Zealand Residence Visas and Permits Granted to Nationals of India and Fiji, 1982–2005 (March Years) 214 10.2 Birthplace of Indian Population of New Zealand, 2001 215
  • 15.
    List of Abbreviations AAHOAAsian-American Hotel Owners Association AAPI American Association of Physicians of Indian Origin AIWA Asian Indian Women in America AFPFL Anti-Fascist People’s Freedom League ALTA Agricultural Landlord and Tenants Act ALTO Agricultural Landlords and Tenants Ordinance AMJCA All-Malayan Council of Joint Action ASHA Asian Women’s Self-Help Association AWACS Airborne Warning and Control System BBC British Broadcasting Corporation BIA Board of Immigration Appeals BJP Bharatiya Janata Party CAIR Council on American–Islamic Relations CBI Confederation of British Industry CIAM Central Indian Association of Malaya CMIO Chinese, Malays, Indians and ‘Others’ CSR Colonial Sugar Refining DHS Department of Homeland Security EIC East India Company EU European Union FAB Fijian Affairs Board FBI Federal Bureau of Investigation FIA Federation of Indian American Associations FLP Fiji Labour Party FTUC Fiji Trades Union Congress GCC Great Council of Chiefs GRCs group representation constituencies IACPA Indian American Centre for Political Awareness IAFPE India America Forum for Political Education IALI Indian American Leadership Incubator IIL Indian Independence League INA Indian National Army INS Immigration and Naturalisation Service IOOR India and Oriental Office Records ISKCON International Society for Krishna Consciousness
  • 16.
    LAI League AgainstImperialism MCA Malayan Chinese Association MCP Malayan Communist Party MIC Malayan Indian Congress NEP New Economic Policy NFIA National Federation of Indian American Associations NFP National Federation Party NGOs non-governmental organisations NHS National Health Service NLTA Native Land Trust Act NLTB Native Land Trust Board NRIs non-resident Indians NRM new religious movement NSEERS National Security Entry–Exit Registration System NUPW National Union of Plantation Workers OCA Organisation of Chinese Americans OECD Organisation for Economic Cooperation and Development PAP People’s Action Party PIOs people of Indian origin PNC People’s National Congress PNAC Project for the New American Century PPP People’s Progressive Party RSS Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh SDL Soqosoqo Duavata ni Lewenivanua SAMTA South Asian Mentoring and Tutoring Association SOAS School of Oriental and African Studies UGC University Grants Commission UMNO United Malays National Organisation USINPAC US India Political Action Committee VHP Vishwa Hindu Parishad WLP Washington Leadership Programme List of Abbreviations xi
  • 17.
    Foreword Tracing an IndianDiaspora arrives on the scene when disciplinary studies in the humanities and social sciences are in a state of flux. The volume is not only a major contribution to diaspora studies; it is also a pointer to the new directions in which interdisciplinary research could be fruitfully carried out. Indeed, as the editors argue ‘Diaspora has become a key trope in the humanities today’. Central to the book is the premise that diaspora involves the ‘re imagining of territoriality’. For, traditional political paradigms always recognised the territoriality of nation states. As the editors cogently argue, the Indian diaspora today typifies ‘locations of resistance and locations of belonging’. In the wake of 9/11, we find that questions of belonging are increasingly ‘being territorialised, scrutinised and penal- ised’. There are ‘multiple identifications and contested affiliations’ in the era of global capital. Based on this framework, the volume arranges chapters into four main sections. Each section is preceded by a brief introduction. What precisely is achieved in the shift of the study from ‘immigrants’ to that of the ‘diaspora’? Parvati Raghuram, Ajaya Kumar Sahoo, Brij Maharaj and Dave Sangha, editors of this volume, focus on ‘contexts, memories and representations’. They contend that ‘reading the dias- pora is most politically productive when embedded in the reality of its production, circulation and appropriation’. Straddling several disciplines and knowledgeable systems such as sociology, political science, ethnography, literature, anthropology, geo- graphy, history, international relations, women’s studies, Tracing an Indian Diaspora is a testimony to the power of this cutting-edge dis- cipline to generate thinking about the diaspora. The volume does not intend to be all comprehensive. Indeed, the editors, in a self-reflexive manner, highlight several areas such as the interface between newer modes of knowledge like digital technology and transnational affiliation that call for a more detailed enquiry. Writtenforthemostpartinalucid,jargon-freelanguage,thevolume is truly international in character. It seeks out scholars from various parts of the world who offer original thinking on the issue of the (Indian) diaspora in the age of global capital. There is a common thread
  • 18.
    that runs throughthe volume, although the editors admit that their effort represents ‘an assemblage’ and not ‘a narrative’. Tracing an Indian Diaspora is a landmark volume. It signals the arrival of the new discipline. Sachidananda Mohanty Professor, Department of English University of Hyderabad Foreword xiii
  • 19.
    Acknowledgements The editors wouldlike to acknowledge the authors for their contributions to the book. Ajaya would particularly like to thank them for responding swiftly to his often urgent requests during the editorial process. Parvati would like to thank the Geography Department at The Open University for providing an intellectually stimulating and supportive environment. Dave would like to acknowledge the support of his col- leagues in the Social Work Programme at the University of Northern British Columbia. Brij would like to acknowledge the support received from the Geography Department at the University of KwaZulu- Natal. Finally, the editors would like to thank Dr Sugata Ghosh of SAGE Publications for his kind interest and support in bringing out the book in time.
  • 20.
    1 Thinking ‘Indian Diaspora’for Our Times PARVATI RAGHURAM AND AJAYA KUMAR SAHOO This volume traces some of the plurality within the Indian diaspora, a plurality which takes many forms: geographical dispersion, his- torical contexts, temporal frames, authorial positions, political affili- ations. It is thus an assemblage, not a narrative. And it is purposefully so. This volume does not attempt to produce a new boundary around diasporic identifications but rather to unsettle diaspora by loosely juxtaposing a set of chapters that provide complementary, sometimes competing perspectives, on diasporic locations, identifications and re- presentations. In this introduction we aim to briefly outline the think- ing behind this strategy and provide an outline of the volume. UNSETTLING DIASPORIC THINKING Diaspora has become a key trope in the humanities today. The launch of the journal Diaspora: A Journal of Transnational Studies in 1991 by Khachig Tololyan testifies not only to the importance achieved by the concept as an instrument of analysis, but also to the desire to do away withthesharplydefinedbordersofthenationstate.Sociologists,anthro- pologists, cultural critics and historians have in the last decades put to the test essentialist definitions of culture and nation. Contemporary ethnography, to give but one example, has rejected reductive notions of culture as dwelling in favour of a wider definition of culture as multi- locale. The concept of nation as an unalterable homogeneous entity has been seriously questioned. Although the idea of the nation should not be completely cast aside—after all, nations are still powerful and
  • 21.
    2 Parvati Raghuramand Ajaya Kumar Sahoo important political, administrative and cultural units—new historical changes demand that the nation state should recognise the limits of its territoriality. To put it differently, nations are urged to reconsider and transcend old concepts of boundaries and frontiers so that they can become just one site in a new transnational culture. And diasporic thinking has arguably become one tool in this boundary transcend- ing analysis. The concept of ‘diaspora’ and its geographical and territorial di- mensions have all been subject to various interpretations (Braziel and Mannur 2003). AccordingtoVertovec(1997: 277)theterm‘diaspora’isof- ten applied to ‘describe practically any population that is considered “deterritorialized” or “transnational”—that is, which has originated in a land other than which it currently resides in, and whose social, economic, and political networks cross the borders of nation-states or, indeed, span the globe.’ It is therefore evident that geographically, ‘diaspora involves a radical … redefinition of place. To the ancient Greeks, diaspora was associated with migration and colonisation’ (Cohen 1997: ix). However, for Jews, Africans, Palestinians and Arme- nians, the term had a more ominous connotation: ‘Diaspora signified a collective trauma, a banishment, where one dreamed of home but lived in exile’ (Cohen 1997: ix). ForotherssuchasPaulGilroy(1994)andStuartHall(1990),diaspora is defined not by biographical connectivity across geographical areas or political boundaries, but is created by and through differentiation. It is the contradictory emotions, the ambivalences in the diasporic’s notions of belonging, their identification with and against territorial social and cultural formations, especially as they are shaped through the processes of exclusion, that they highlight in their work on diaspora. They root diaspora in its effective dislocations between ‘locations of residence and locations of belonging’ (Gilroy 2000: 124) in order to expose the political possibilities of this rupture. A more categorical definition of diaspora has been adopted by writerssuchasSafran(1991),Sheffer(1993),Bruneau(1994)andCohen (1997). For them migration can be defined as producing a ‘diaspora’ if four conditions are met: first, an ethnic consciousness; second, an active associative life; third, contacts with the land of origin in various forms, real or imaginary; fourth, there should be relations with other groups of the same ethnic origin spread over the world. This is perhaps best captured by Judith Shuval:
  • 22.
    Thinking ‘Indian Diaspora’for Our Times 3 A diaspora is a social construct founded on feeling, consciousness, mem- ory, mythology, history, meaningful narratives, group identity, longings, dreams, allegorical and virtual elements all of which play an important role in establishing a diaspora reality. At a given moment in time, the sense of connection to a homeland must be strong enough to resist forgetting, assimilating or distancing. (Shuval 2000: 43) It is this categorical similarity, based on affective and symbolic rela- tions with a homeland, real or imagined, that marks this second def- inition of migration. Diaspora is thus marked by similarity rather than disjuncture. A much more critical take on the trope of diaspora is offered by Floya Anthias (1998; also see Soysal 2000). She centres her criticism of the ubiquitousness of ‘diasporic thinking’ around its failure to move beyond attachment to ‘primordial’ connections expressed through no- tions of ethnicity and nationality or to provide a meaningful basis for an intersectional analysis that takes gender and class differences within and across the diaspora seriously. These are serious concerns that have never been fully addressed by those working in this field. OnepartialresponsetohercriticismsofdiasporacomefromSökefeld (2006) who counters the accusation of primordialism by arguing that diaspora may be analytically treated as akin to social movements: they occur in response to triggers and require agents to actively imagine and produceadiasporathroughasetofmobilisingpractices.Diasporaisde- fined here as intersecting sets of imagined transnational communities. The assumption of a shared identity that unites people living dispersed in transnational space thereby becomes the central defining feature of dias- poras. Rejecting ideas of migrants’ natural rootedness and belonging to places of origin, I argued that diaspora identity and the imagination of a diaspora community is also an outcome of mobilization processes. The de- velopment of diaspora identity is not simply a natural and inevitable result of migration but a historical contingency that frequently develops out of mobilization in response to specific critical events. Diaspora is thus firmly historicized. It is not an issue of naturally felt roots but of specific political circumstances that suggest the mobilization of a transnational imagined community. The focus on mobilization in the formation of diasporas effect- ively counters essentializing concepts of diaspora. (Sökefeld 2006: 280) In autumn 2006, as we write this editorial, the force of diaspora as a tactic for connecting people to a place of origin has only gathered force.
  • 23.
    4 Parvati Raghuramand Ajaya Kumar Sahoo The sites and means through which diasporic identification is mo- bilised and where diaspora is represented and contested have also multiplied. A number of important players have entered this field— most notably national governments. There has, for instance, been a re- imagination of the relationship between domicility, citizenship and belonging in India from one that is exclusive and coterminous to one that recognises that deterritorialised populations may be mobilised to invest in the territories they and their ancestors left behind. With a population of more than 20 million, spread across a 110 countries, the numbers involved are vast. This re-imagining of territoriality is done through the emotional register, through an evocative call to feel the love and affection you can find in mother India. But not all Indians are recalled in the same way. The Indian government itself distinguishes between people of Indian origin (PIOs), those who pro- fess their allegiance to India while relinquishing citizenship rights, and non-resident Indians (NRIs), those who are (at least for the moment) sojourners—Indian citizens living in other countries. The designation ‘NRI’ in particular has always had strong economic connotations. The government has for long called upon its diaspora to help ‘develop’ the territorially located nation state, indeed encouraged it by offer- ing attractive investment packages and financial concessions. This reverberates through the ‘development machinery’ with diasporic development becoming a key strategy for various bodies under the umbrella of the United Nations, international development agencies and non-governmental organisations (NGOs). PIOs, on the other hand, are often re-called through the language of cultural continuity and affect, but an affect that too has economic potential for the mother country. The financial demands on the diaspora, it appears, are increas- ingly becoming dispersed across the different categories of migrants (sojourners, NRIs, PIOs) who originate from India. Moreover, the politics of belonging, which occupies centre stage in the troubled territories of nationalism and citizenship, has become evenmorecontestedinthepost9/11landscape.Thequestionofbelong- ing is increasingly being territorialised, securitised and penalised. In the polarised discussions of belonging, diasporics are continuously being asked to display how and in what ways ‘you are one of us, not one of them’. Multiple identifications and contested affiliation are to be muffled, congealed into a publicly expressed singular narrative of
  • 24.
    Thinking ‘Indian Diaspora’for Our Times 5 belonging. In the countries of origin too, diasporas are being used to strengthen both economic and cultural nationalism (Dirlik 2004). As diaspora becomes the new engine for igniting sluggish econ- omies and for professing exclusive emotional and political affili- ations, it is time to return to the work that the trope of diaspora is being required to perform. This volume contributes towards this effort and in doing so it deploys many of the different understandings of dias- pora that we have outlined here. Intertextually, these different versions of the diaspora can unpack, perhaps even destabilise the notion of diaspora. We emphasise the ability of diasporic thinking to play with bound- aries—on their maintenance, reconfiguration, unsettling, and on boundary conflicts and negotiations. The types of boundaries traversed may be physical, political, social, cultural and emotional. Writings on diaspora often call upon a heady concoction of these to create a par- ticular imaginary of diaspora. Importantly, these border crossings also bring up unexpected alliances and collisions with the politics sur- rounding other markers of identity such as race, ethnicity, gender, class and sexuality, especially as they relate to nationality, nationalism and transnationalism. It is in these spaces where the diaspora politics weaves through and across other vectors of difference that the most interesting intellectual conundrums and challenging political ques- tions are posed. PRODUCING THE VOLUME This volume and its assemblage has its own history. It is the brain- child of academics working at the Centre for the Study of Indian Diaspora, Hyderabad, who decided to mark the first decade of the es- tablishment of the Centre by issuing a commemorative volume on the subject. The annual Pravasi Bharatiya Divas celebrations, which mark the achievements of the Indian diaspora, was also held in Hyderabad in January 2006. This volume was originally envisaged as celebrating both events. Until the early 1990s, interest in the diaspora was largely filtered through the economic lens with the NRIs being used by the Gov- ernment of India largely as a code name for economic investment.
  • 25.
    6 Parvati Raghuramand Ajaya Kumar Sahoo Social concerns with the situation of diasporic Indians was fairly limited (Lall 2001). In academic debates in India too, the notion of diaspora was rarely deployed. In 1989, for instance, Sociological Bul- letin, the official journal of the Indian Sociological Society, brought out a special issue on the theme of ‘Indians Abroad’ (Vol. 38, No. 1, March 1989) in which eight out of nine articles focused on Indian com- munities abroad, but not a single one referred to them as diasporic. Rather, scholars used words like ‘Indian immigrants’ (see Buchignani 1989; Mehta 1989; Sharma 1989) or ‘overseas Indians’ (see R.K. Jain 1989; P.C. Jain1989). In 1994, an ‘International Conference on Indian Diaspora’ was organised by the University of Hyderabad with the objective of open- ing up of a centre exclusively for the study of the Indian diaspora. It was in this conference that terms such as ‘diaspora’ and ‘transnational Indians’ came to be used (Nadarajah 1994). The demands for the or- ganised study of the ‘Indian diaspora’, their expectations, their con- tributions and scope of collaboration in various sectors of society, resulted in the establishment of the Centre for the Study of Indian Diaspora under the Area Studies Programme of the University Grants Commission (UGC) in 1996 at the University of Hyderabad. The idea of creating the ‘Centre’ exclusively for Indian diaspora studies was par- ticularly taken up by Professor Chandrashekhar Bhat—the founder and director of the Centre—who was inspired by his mentor, Professor Adrian Mayer of the School of Oriental and African Studies (SOAS) at the University of London, during his visit to carry out research on Indian ethnic associations in London. The Centre today is one of the exclusive centres all over the world devoted to the study of the ‘Indian diaspora’ through its teaching and research modules. The Centre envisages research on the historical context of the Indian diaspora during the colonial and postcolonial phases, cultural heritage of diasporic communities, continuities and transformation in culture, economy and political life, besides pro- moting communication and linkages between India and the Indian diaspora. In other words, the Centre is involved in the study of social, cultural, linguistic, economic, political, geographical, literary and other aspects of the Indian diaspora in its global context. The Centre has so far organised three international conferences and two national work- shops on the ‘Indian diaspora’.
  • 26.
    Thinking ‘Indian Diaspora’for Our Times 7 In order to commemorate a decade of its existence, to mark the Centre as an International Centre for Study of Indian Diaspora that would facilitate further research on the Indian diaspora, scholars from all over the world were invited to contribute a paper for an edited volume that focuses on the Centre’s broad objectives. The collection of papers and its organisation largely reflects the choice of writers identified by academics at the Centre. Reflecting the Centre’s multi- disciplinary approach to the study of the Indian diaspora, a range of academics—sociologists, anthropologists, historians, economists, demographers, geographers, and management, educational and policy researchers from different parts of the diaspora were invited to con- tribute to the volume. The editors were then subsequently identified by the Centre and so have only minimally shaped the discussions in the volume. Contributors in this anthology examine (directly or indirectly) issues such as labour, migration, gender, religion, ethnicity, identity, globalisation and transnationalism. This book is thus divided into four main sections, which accommodate and structure interconnected viewpoints on the Indian diaspora. READING THE VOLUME The volume is divided into four sections. The division of chapters into these sections is not wholly clear-cut. Broadly, the first two sections emphasise the migratory movements that have led to the formation of the Indian diaspora. They unpack the geographical scope of the diaspora and highlight the different processes, opportunities and constraints that the Indian diaspora faces in its different locales. In the second half of the book, we move towards thinking of diaspora not so much as dispersed people but as associational activities. Diaspora here is what diaspora does. It is not based on historical connections enacted through migrations, but practised through travel, rituals, film and through literature. One could read the chapters in sections 3 and 4 contrapuntally against those in sections 1 and 2; juxtaposing them for understandings of how the authors themselves tell the stories of the diaspora, how they represent the diaspora. Equally, sections 3 and 4 may be read through the historical lens that the chapters in the first two sections offer, making us read Indian authors for authorial pos- itions, contexts and the histories and conditions of their migration.
  • 27.
    8 Parvati Raghuramand Ajaya Kumar Sahoo Sections 1 and 2 are divided up through a broadly historical peri- odisation. Section 1 focuses primarily on diasporas created through migrations during the colonial period—the chapters are all ‘haunted by empire’ (Stoler 2006).1 They have their history in the imperial legacy of British colonialism and the uneven social and cultural landscapes that the populations whose movements were so forcefully shaped by British policies then inhabited. Located in far-flung parts of the empire, occupying a range of roles, they were often held together by the conditions of their dispersal—the terms of indenture. Indenture placed physical and cultural constraints on identifying outside of one’s diasporic origins.2 Imperial machinations forced diasporic identifi- cations through racial classifications. People were often required to perform their diasporic affiliation, to be marked through their migra- tory trajectory, to submerge other vectors of difference and to play out theimaginedmarkersofdiasporicculture.TobeIndianwasthereforeto perform an imagined version of Indianness. It was therefore also as much about not being white, African, Sinhalese, Fijian or West Indian, although the extent and the ways in which the racial classification op- erated clearly varied. In an environment where a number of races were closelyjuxtapositioned,Indiandiasporicsoftenoccupiedanin-between space between the coloniser and the territorially-based colonised. They formed, for instance, a middle strata between the British and the black Africans in many parts of Africa. This liminality, however, also disrupts the bodies and the boundaries of those who are to be kept apart—as Mehta (Chapter 21) explores in her analysis of mixed-race dougla identity. As such, the specificity of the indentured system in shaping old migration receives much attention amongst diasporic thinkers writing from these regions. Moreover, it forcefully shapes diaspora and diasporic thinking in these territories. For much of this diaspora, decolonisation marked a point at which their (hi)stories grew further apart as they came to be influenced by the policies and practices of postcolonial governments. The world that diasporic Indians inhabited was inalienably and differentially altered through decolonisation. Social changes such as the rewiring of reli- gion and caste and gendered subjectivities were played out in a range of contexts, from the individual through the family and to the state both in the old empire and in India (also see Leonard, Chapter 12, and Wilson, Chapter 20). The basis for citizenship and belonging, the right
  • 28.
    Thinking ‘Indian Diaspora’for Our Times 9 to work, access to the public sphere and opportunities for political ac- tivism were also therefore realigned. More recent migrations from India have produced a new set of issues for the old diaspora. For instance, as Rai (Chapter 2) suggests, new migration streams, primarily of the educated middle-class professionals in global industries are leading to a complex reconfiguration of pre-existing stratifications within the Indian diaspora in Southeast Asia. Some of these emerging differences are evocatively outlined by Padayachee et al. (2004) in their analysis of cricket in KwaZulu-Natal between 1994 and 2004. They point out the ways in which struggles over race still mark the game despite the official end of apartheid. At- tempts at better representation of ‘black’ cricketers in effect opened up space for Indians who played the game both because of lobbying, and due to the increased access they had to the white middle and upper- class spaces where cricket was fostered. As a result, in 2000–2001, the category black had become virtually synonymous with Indians. At the same time, increasing black African consciousness of these new vectors of inequality has led to an unravelling of the political affili- ations around black identity forged between different (non-white) races in the struggle against apartheid. Moreover, the category Indian too is fraying as caste and class affiliations find expressive space. These narratives of strategic identifications with majority ethnic groups during the colonial era, followed by a jostling for power among some Indian diasporics in the post-decolonisation phase is a tale that is re- peated in all the chapters in this section. Given the weak links that such early migrants have with the Indian subcontinent, it might be worth asking a common question about the fate of Indians in the old diaspora. Many of these people (often en- compassed within the term ‘PIO’) have tenuous links with India. When faced with racialised targeting they have migrated again, but often not to India (Srebrnik, Chapter 4). This story of further migrations by the old Indian diaspora is picked up most notably by Srebrnik, and Friesen and Kearns (Chapter 10), who focus on the political fallout of indigenisation politics and the ways in which this has sparked new migratory streams. The presence of diasporic populations from older migration streams in new countries of settlement actively destabil- ises the boundary between new and old diaspora. It asks questions about where exactly the divide between the old and the new diaspora lies, questions that should not be allowed to go away.
  • 29.
    10 Parvati Raghuramand Ajaya Kumar Sahoo Unlike in Section 1, the migratory imperatives that shape the dias- pora in the chapters in Section 2 emphasise the agency of migrants within the context of unfolding opportunities that they are faced with. The agentic approach to diaspora suggests that diasporic be- longing is much more of a matter of choice. The multiplicity and di- versification of migration beyond the remit of the old empire, the increasingly middle-class nature of migrants and the new issues that arise for diasporic politics are all raised here. Asking ourselves what makes the new diaspora ‘new’ also reminds us that it is not the sites that are new but the conditions of mobility and the processes where- by there is a ‘selection of migrants’ that is new (also see Raghuram, Chapter 8). Moreover, some countries, as for example New Zealand, have become countries of destination for both ‘old’ Fijian diasporics and new (often skilled) migrants directly from India. A close look at such spaces can point to the complexities of the claims to the ‘jargon of authenticity’ (Goswami 2005: 223), to some essential ‘Indianness’. It also points out the possibilities for new coalitions as well as emerg- ing fissures within the Indian diaspora. This section explores how diasporic affiliation is produced in a context where racial profiling is subtler and the diversity amongst migrants from India more marked. The chapters move between of- fering narratives of continuity and expressing a desire to construct identity through national affiliation and religious and cultural sym- bols to those that question the nation, recognise that affiliation is con- structed and spatio-temporally contingent. It must be said here that like Sarker and De (2002) we find that the division between sections 1 and 2 are porous. Very often the subjectivities that are scripted in post- colonial migrations draw upon hierarchies and privileges produced through or at least during the colonial era. Thus, very often (but cru- cially, not always) the educated postcolonial migrant leaving Indian shores in the 1960s and 1970s was an unequal beneficiary of (western) education and capital (financial, human, social and cultural) accrued across generations during the colonial period. At the same time, the postcolonial nation also constructs its own hierarchies and propels its population to mobility in new and interesting ways. Section 3 begins to move the discussion of diaspora away from the social and economic contexts of diaspora formation to diasporic prac- tices. It focuses on the ways and means of remembering and enacting
  • 30.
    Thinking ‘Indian Diaspora’for Our Times 11 diasporic belonging and the sites and spaces where such narratives of belonging are performed. The chapters explore these issues as they are played out through texts, rituals such as pilgrimages, through building temples and over the Internet. Pandurang (Chapter 13) also suggests that these forms of identification are already in motion be- fore migration, produced in the social and cultural contexts of an ever-changing India. Importantly for this volume, this section also begins to unpack various normative assumptions that are at play in some readings of the ‘Indian diaspora’ by seeing diasporic belonging as constructed, contested and contradictory. It forcefully reminds us that the notion of an ‘Indian diaspora’ is itself problematic because as Mallapragada (2006: 225) reminds us ‘it is an uncritical descriptor of diverse communities with varied and overlapping histories of con- nections to, and interests in, India’ and the many other geographical spaces over which the diaspora is dispersed. Section 4 moves on to explore some representational tactics taken upon, by and for the diaspora. It explores the mediated nature of dias- poric affiliations through a range of media—performance of plays, films and literary texts. Some chapters explore the authorial and dir- ectorial strategies involved in producing texts while others offer a close reading of the texts for how they present, produce and displace diasporic thinking. In both sections 3 and 4, the patriarchy and het- eronormativity of dominant constructions of the diaspora are care- fully unpicked. Focusing on the experiences and the imaginaries of these subaltern diasporics, those whom Jamil Khader (2003) recognises as lacking ‘a genuine sense of home as women, colonials, and second- class citizens in both insular and metropolitan spaces’ can perhaps help to transform diasporic thinking. She argues that these subal- tern cosmopolitans can use their marginality and appropriation with- in hegemonic versions of nation and community to interrogate their meanings and to ‘reintegrate them within transnational and transethnic communities of struggle, rather than within the exclusive borders’ of diaspora (Khader 2003: 63). Shuffling the chapters can produces a different thematically ar- ranged reading of the volume. In particular, the traumatic turf on which religious politics is played out appears repeatedly through the differ- entsectionsofthebook.Oneformofreligiousdiasporawhichiscentred round religion is explored by Genn in her chapter on the Chishtiyya
  • 31.
    12 Parvati Raghuramand Ajaya Kumar Sahoo diaspora (Chapter 11). But a much stronger theme in this volume is the power of resurgent Hindu nationalism and the minoritisation of Muslims in India that is echoed, sometimes amplified, abroad. The Indian diaspora seems on such occasions to slip into or to be performed as a Hindu diaspora. Building temples (Miller, Chapter 14)) and cele- brating festivals (Vadivella Belle, Chapter 3, and Friesen and Kearns, Chapter 10) are events for performing Indianness but this can be an exclusionary India, which is produced through selective traditions, imperfect memories and overvalorised auratic values. The politics of such a re-versioned Hinduism is both transported across borders (through films as Bhattacharya shows us) and appropriated in the diaspora (see De, Chapter 16) reconfiguring religion across diasporic space (Vadivella Belle, Chapter 3). However, increasing Islamophobia in the United States (US) has also opened up the space for new types of political engagements which cross-cut origin, religion or ethnicity as Maira explores (Chapter 6). This hopeful vein is also reflected in Vadivella Belle’s reading of the cross-class possibilities of affiliation as expressed in the celebration of the festival of Thaipusam. The complexities of identification are also picked up through other vectors in several of the chapters in this volume. Geoffrey Burkhart ex- plores the complexity of gay positioning among South Asians living in the US. The heteronormativity of the imagined nation state spills out (and is often reinforced) in the diaspora so that gay South Asian men have limited possibilities for affiliating with the diaspora. Pub- lic discourses of the diaspora also too easily posit the Indian diaspora as a patriarchal formation. The chapters offer us glimpses into the lives of women with very different territorial identification in India, migratory trajectories and destinations in the countries of settle- ment (see Raghuram, Chapter 8, and Mehta, Chapter 21). The women have moved alone, set up businesses, worked as professionals, brought up their daughters (and sons) and lived middle-class lives that in so many ways resemble those of Indians in India and nationals in the countries where they have settled. Sam Naidu (Chapter 18) and Jaspal Kaur Singh (Chapter 19), focusing on the writings of women authors similarly offer a challenge to any simplistic notion of female agency in the diaspora. Some chapters highlight the subtle processes where- by patriarchal values are being produced in the diaspora through (mis)appropriations of classical texts (De, Chapter 16) while others
  • 32.
    Thinking ‘Indian Diaspora’for Our Times 13 show how complex femininities are represented through diasporic texts (Wilson, Chapter 20, and Mehta, Chapter 21) and in pre-migrant contexts (Pandurang, Chapter 13). And the significance of women in producing a sense of home through their socially reproductive ac- tives such as teaching language (Barn, Chapter 9) too are aired here. Together they begin to unsettle many of the ‘melodramatic postures’ (Puwar 2003) that have been adopted in writings around South Asian women in the diaspora. They point to how those who fall beyond ‘the patriarchal and heterosexual configuration of both nation and dias- pora’ (Gopinath 2003: 265) make and remake the diaspora. The agency of diasporic individuals in shaping the diaspora is also taken up by Gottschlich (Chapter 7) and Basdeo and Samaroo (Chapter 5). They explore the contextual and structural conditions that have enabled the emergence of charismatic individuals and pol- itical groups who have actively produced an Indian diaspora through their interventions in the politics of the region as well as their dias- poric political engagements (also see Vadivella Belle, Chapter 3). Diasporic affiliation then becomes (at least partially) an outcome of individual and collective agents, who have ‘identities and histories inevitably bound up in diverse fragments of culture and place’ (Gandhi 2002: 359) rather than an expression of primordial connections. These chapters also attempt to explore the contexts in which these indi- viduals and organisations have emerged, so that their agency is not overburdened. In the context of Malaysia, Vadivella Belle pays atten- tion to the ways in which diaspora politics only provided a route to political gain for a few, particularly upper-class people and the con- testations over leadership that this sometimes provoked. This is cru- cial because as Yuval-Davis argues: It is important to recognize, however, that such political agents struggle both for the promotion of their specific projects in the construction of their collectivity and its boundaries and, at the same time, use these ideologies and projects in order to promote their own power positions within and out- side the collectivity. The politics of belonging includes also struggles around the determination of what is involved in belonging, in being a member of a community, and of what roles specific social locations and specific narratives of identity play in this. As such, it encompasses con- testations both in relation to the participatory dimension of citizenship as well as in relation to issues of the status and entitlements such member- ship entails. (Yuval-Davis 2006: 205)
  • 33.
    14 Parvati Raghuramand Ajaya Kumar Sahoo These contestations are also significantly shaped by the state and its policies and politics. The forms of citizenship offered to Indian diasporics is rapidly multiplying with domicility conferring differ- ential rights both in countries of settlement and in India (Raghuram, Chapter 8). Transnationalism is, however, unsettling the definitions of domicility as exemplified in the case of Indian migrants to the Gulf, so that citizenship is becoming territorially sensitive to the conditions of settlement in countries of destination. Claims to citizenship and be- longing are also being played out in new sites—cyberspace, being one such site for enacting emerging ephemeral collectivities. Unsurprisingly, memory is a strong basis around which these col- lectivities are imagined and therefore a reccurring theme throughout the volume. Auratic memories of smells (Miller), of buildings and land- scapes (Genn, Miller and Wilson), of rituals (Vadivella Bella), of texts (De) and of everyday socialities played out in schools (Leonard) and in families (Mehta and Singh) are selectively remembered, valorised and reconfigured in producing the Indian diaspora. To sum up, the multiple meanings and theoretical takes on diaspora that are outlined in the first part of this introduction are displayed in the volume. Dias- pora is analysed through a range of lenses from migration, to ethnicity, citizenship, cultural continuity and conscious political affiliation/ disaffiliation, reflecting the diversity of viewpoints of authors who work in this field. MOVING ON The volume is not and cannot be comprehensive so the lacunae in it are many. In this section we briefly pick up a few issues/questions that would have interested us from our own positionings and invest- ments that we feel have not found space in the volume. First, in our take on the Indian diaspora, the book leaves unexplored other entanglements that ‘do’ and ‘undo’ India. How do questions of diaspora look when the homeland does not exist except through dias- poric struggles? It asks difficult questions such as how are diasporic funds and support deployed at home to fight for a homeland. And there may be no agreement amongst those involved in the struggle as exemplified by the case of the Kashmiri diaspora caught between
  • 34.
    Thinking ‘Indian Diaspora’for Our Times 15 a secularist independence movement and those who seek independ- ence under the aegis of Pakistani protection or for Islamic rule. These troubled stories of diasporic affiliations that unsettle the boundaries of India are left unexplored here. These boundaries are also disrupted through flows of communica- tion and the Internet has played its part in shaping diasporic thinking. At best it has produced a comfortable space for diasporic belonging (Mitra 2005), at worst a space for a novel Internet Hindutva (Rajagopal 2000). The information technology engineers who sojourn and settle in the US have also participated in producing ‘cybershakas’ or electronic networks of revivalist Hindu organisations that wipe out any secular narratives of India but rather posit ‘India’ in a reinvigorated Hindu historicism. However, reading the diaspora is most politically productive when embedded in the reality of its production, circulation and appropriation. The shape of these imagined communities is in- fluenced by who actually gets online because cyberspace reflects, reproduces and refracts inequalities in the ‘real’ world, unsettling the divide between the virtual and the real through the continuities and discontinuities between these two media. Many of the vectors of inequality that are being played out on the Internet have their routes in colonialism and access to English as this language has become the preferred medium for producing the Internet. However, these in- equalities are not simply mapped on from real communities to virtual communities. New forms of stratification are also emerging. The pro- cesses of selectivity that shape diasporic notions of belonging, a theme that reverberates across the volume, are visible in the Internet diaspora too. For instance, some of the techno-savvy English-educated Indian diasporic élite in the US have used the cyberspace to reproduce and circulate texts in some Indian languages, reconfiguring keyboards and facilitating online reproduction as well as translation of regional texts. These texts have been a part of and have led to a complex re- vivalism of regional diasporas, around which cyber-identification has become increasingly important. Digital knowledge is producing new versions of élitism but this is also being contested from diverse spots within cyberspace. The tension between the construction of particu- laristic belonging and transnational affiliation as played out in the new digital media has not been adequately addressed here.
  • 35.
    16 Parvati Raghuramand Ajaya Kumar Sahoo Religious identification and its role in constructing the imaginary of India receives some attention in this volume. Less fully explored is the role of religion in the Indian diaspora in shaping politics within India. In particular, each religion is treated separately rather than to- gether. Moreover, religion too gets rescripted through its travels ab- road. These are pressing issues for the Indian diaspora as a ‘powerful diaspora Hindutva ethnic nationalist discourse of the homeland, and equally powerful Hindutva ethnic nationalist discourses of minorities within both the homeland and in the West’ jostle for space (Bhatt and Mukta 2000: 438). As Bhatt and Mukta go on to argue the ‘unequal power geometry of globalization that is concentrated in the west can create significant advantages for diaspora Hindutva movements in their relationships with India. The formation of absolutist religious identities by claimed representatives of some minorities in the west is a will to power from which they thence have a privileged stake in de- ciding the future of absolutely less powerful minorities in the home- land’ (Bhatt and Mukta 2000: 438). Within these conditions we must ask how beleaguered religious identifications such as those of Islam should be folded into thinking the ‘Indian diaspora’ (see, for instance, Bal and Sinha-Kerkhoff 2005). Another set of issues that interest us but are not fully explored here is how the diaspora influences and shapes place-based subjectivities in India. For instance, Section 4 of the volume focuses on writers from the Indian diaspora but there is little here on the relationship between diasporic authors and authors in India writing about the diaspora. As Lisa Lau (2005: 242) suggests ‘It is ironic that these articulate diasporic South Asian women writers may be so much more effective than their South Asian counterparts in marketing their ideas and ideals, that they almost consign the home South Asians to the position of subalternism.’ So we may well ask how do diaspora stories configure the immobile? How do they become emplaced and what forms of displacement do they feel as diasporic money, goods and people flow in and through their spaces (Chu 2006). What are the dangers of over- valorising stories of mobility and diaspora? How do we unsettle the increasing privileging of metropolitan diasporic writers and the siting of the metropolis as the place where we can be ‘properly postcolonial’? (Donnell 2005: 479). A number of chapters pose questions about the re-fashioning of land in the construction of identity amongst migrants—the role it
  • 36.
    Thinking ‘Indian Diaspora’for Our Times 17 played in legitimising their presence and how this is disrupted by new narratives emerging after decolonisation. Writing about inter- nal migration of Syrian Christians in Kerala, Varghese (2006) suggests that the ‘metamorphosis of the landscape of Malabar was the narrative locus on which the production and delineation of the migrant identity was made possible. The fashioning of such a common collectivity was also realised through the binary exercise of homogenising all inter- nal divergences within the migrant community and a systematic othering of the indigene. The indigenous people were most often viewed by the migrants as un-enterprising, un-civilised and foolish. They are portrayed as untouched by the capitalist logic of rational in- vestment and accumulation’ (Varghese 2006: 246). Yet, most of the chapters in this book stop short of exploring how the migrants and the indigenes were discursively constructing each other in the com- plex matrix of colonial and postcolonial nations into which Indians moved as part of indenture. Identifying the bases for these dis/iden- tifications might be one route to producing a politics that cuts across and reworks these differences, to help migrants and indigenes imagine a new shared relationship with land. This volume addresses but also hopefully leaves open many ques- tions: What is going on in the Indian diaspora? How do we imagine it? How should we imagine it? Is diaspora a useful category for bringing together such an assemblage? Is there an overdetermination of origin as a marker of identity? These questions may be encompassed with- in a broader one: ‘whither an Indian diaspora?’ We believe that these questions are and should always be left open, in suspension for each generation to re-interpret for their own time. It should be left unsettled, open to circulation, dialogue and critique. NOTES 1. The Indian government’s own report of the high-level committee (Ministry of External Affairs 2001) recognises the long historical tradition of movement and counter-movement that shaped the economies and polities of some of the kingdoms in the Indian subcontinent. Pre-colonial movements to South-east Asia, to East Africa and to the Persian Gulf were not uncommon and the effects of these movements on local cultural practices may still be traced, especially in South-east Asia. This theme is briefly picked up in Rajesh Rai’s chapter (Chapter 2) on the Indian diaspora in South-east Asia.
  • 37.
    18 Parvati Raghuramand Ajaya Kumar Sahoo 2. However, not all the migration that formed the old diaspora was under the terms of indenture, nor were they all labour migrants. Moreover, for many of the migrants, even indenture offered opportunities to escape social and economic disadvantage in India (Satyanarayana 2002). REFERENCES Anthias, F. 1998. ‘Evaluating “Diaspora”: Beyond Ethnicity?’, Sociology, 32: 557–80. Bal, E. and K. Sinha-Kerkhoff. 2005. ‘Muslims in Surinam and the Netherlands, and the Divided Homeland’, Journal of Muslim Minority Affairs, 25(2): 193–217. Bhatt, C. and P. Mukta. 2000. ‘Hindutva in the West: Mapping the Anti- nomies of Diaspora Nationalism’, Ethnic and Racial Studies, 23(3): 407–41. Braziel, J.E. and A. Mannur. 2003. ‘Nation, Migration, Globalization: Points of Contention in Diaspora Studies’, in J.E. Braziel and A. Mannur (eds), Theorizing Diaspora, pp. 1–22. Oxford: Blackwell. Bruneau, M. 1994. ‘Espaces et Territoires de Diasporas’, L’Espace Géographique, 1: 5–18. Buchignani, N. 1989. ‘Contemporary Research on People of Indian Origin in Canada’, Sociological Bulletin, 38(1): 71–94. Chu, J.Y. 2006. ‘To Be “Emplaced”: Fuzhounese Migration and the Politics of Destination’, Identities: Global Studies in Culture and Power, 13(3): 395–425. Cohen, R. 1997. Global Diaspora: An Introduction. London: UCL Press. Dirlik, A. 2004. ‘Intimate Others: [Private] Nations and Diasporas in an Age of Globalization’, Inter-Asia Cultural Studies, 5(3): 491–502. Donnell, A. 2005. ‘What it Means to Stay: Reterritorialising the Black Atlantic in Erna Brodber’s Writing of the Local’, Third World Quarterly, 26(3): 479–86. Gandhi, A. 2002. ‘The Indian Diaspora in Global Advocacy’, Global Networks, 2(4): 357–62. Gilroy, P. 1994. ‘Diaspora’, Paragraph, 17(1): 207–12. ———. 2000. Between Camps: Nations, Cultures and the Allure of Race. London: Allen Lane. Gopinath, G. 2003. ‘Nostalgia, Desire, Diaspora: South Asian Sexualities in Motion’, in J.E. Braziel and A. Mannur (eds), Theorizing Diaspora, pp. 261–79. Oxford: Blackwell. Goswami, M. 2005. ‘Autonomy and Comparability: Notes on the Anticolonial and the Postcolonial’, Boundary 2, 32(2): 199–223. Hall, S. 1990. ‘Culture, Identity and Diaspora’, in J. Rutherford (ed.), Identity, Community, Culture Difference, pp. 22–237. London: Lawrence and Wishart. Jain, P.C. 1989. ‘Emigration and Settlement of Indians Abroad’, Sociological Bulletin, 38(1): 155–68. Jain, R.K. 1989. ‘Race Relations, Ethnicity, Class and Culture: A Comparison of Indians in Trinidad and Malaysia’, Sociological Bulletin, 38(1): 57–70.
  • 38.
    Thinking ‘Indian Diaspora’for Our Times 19 Khader, J. 2003. ‘Subaltern Cosmopolitanism: Community and Transnational Mobility in Caribbean Postcolonial Feminist Writings’, Feminist Studies, 29(1): 63–81. Lall, M.C. 2001. India’s Missed Opportunity: India’s Relationship with the Non-Resident Indians. Aldershot: Ashgate. Lau, L. 2005. ‘Making the Difference: The Differing Presentations and Representa- tions of South Asia in the Contemporary Fiction of Home and Diasporic South Asian Women Writers’, Modern Asian Studies, 39(1): 237–56. Mallapragada, M. 2006. ‘Home, Homeland, Homepage: Belonging and the Indian- American Web’, New Media & Society, 8(2): 207–27. Mehta, S.R. 1989. ‘The Uneven “Inclusion” of Indian Immigrants in Mauritius’, Sociological Bulletin, 38(1): 141–54. Ministry of External Affairs. 2001. Report of the High Level Committee on Indian Diaspora. New Delhi: Indian Council of World Affairs. Mitra, A. 2005. ‘Creating Immigrant Identities in Cybernetic Space: Examples from a Non-resident Indian Website’, Media, Culture & Society, 27(3): 371–90. Nadarajah, M. 1994. ‘Diaspora and Nostalgia: Towards a Semiotic Theory of the Indian Diaspora’, paper presented at the International Conference on Indian Diaspora, University of Hyderabad, 1–2 November 1994. Padayachee, V., A. Desai and G. Vahed. 2004. ‘Managing South African Transformation: The Story of Cricket in KwaZulu Natal, 1994–2004’, Patterns of Prejudice, 38(3): 253–78. Puwar, N. 2003. ‘Melodramatic Postures and Constructions’, in N. Puwar and P. Raghuram (eds), South Asian Women and the Diaspora, pp. 21–42. Oxford: Berg. Rajagopal, A. 2000. ‘Hindu Nationalism in the US: Changing Configurations of Political Practice’, Ethnic and Racial Studies, 23(3): 467–96. Safran, W. 1991. ‘Diaspora’s in Modern Societies: Myths of Homeland and Return’, Diaspora, 1(1): 83–99. Sarker, S. and E. De. 2002. Trans-Status Subjects: Gender in the Globalization of South and Southeast Asia. Durham: Duke University Press. Satyanarayana, A. 2002. ‘Birds of Passage: Migration of South Indian Labourers to South East Asia’, Critical Asian Studies, 34(1): 89–115. Sharma, S.L. 1989. ‘Perspectives on Indians Abroad’, Sociological Bulletin, 38(1): 1–22. Sheffer, G. 1993. ‘Ethnic Diasporas: A Threat to their Host?’, in M. Weiner (ed.), International Migration and Security, pp. 263–85. Boulder: Westview Press. Shuval, J.T. 2000. ‘Diaspora Migration: Definitional Ambiguities and a Theoretical Paradigm’, International Migration, 38(5): 41–56. Sökefeld, M. 2006. ‘Mobilizing in Transnational Space: A Social Movement Approach to the Formation of Diaspora’, Global Networks, 6(3): 265–84. Soysal, Y.N. 2000. ‘Citizenship and Identity: Living in Diasporas in Post-war Europe?’, Ethnic and Racial Studies, 23(1): 1–15.
  • 39.
    20 Parvati Raghuramand Ajaya Kumar Sahoo Stoler,A.L.2006.HauntedByEmpire:GeographiesofIntimacyinNorthAmericanHistory. American Encounters/Global Interactions. Durham: Duke University Press. Varghese, V.J. 2006. ‘Migrant Narratives: Reading Literary Representations of Christian Migration in Kerala, 1920–70’, The Indian Economic and Social History Review, 43(2): 227–55. Vertovec, S. 1997. ‘Three Meanings of “Diaspora” Exemplified among South Asian Religions’, Diaspora, 6(3): 277–99. Yuval-Davis, N. 2006. ‘Belonging and the Politics of Belonging’, Patterns of Prejudice, 40(3): 197–214.
  • 40.
    Section 1 ‘A NewForm of Slavery’: Indentured Diaspora
  • 41.
  • 42.
    Introduction BRIJ MAHARAJ The Indiandiaspora may well be regarded as an international phenomena—it has a presence in more than 100 countries glob- ally. The chapters in this section discuss the roots of the contemporary Indian diaspora that can be traced to the colonial domination by the British and the exploitation of cheap indentured labour from the Asian subcontinent in different parts of the colonial empire. In the nine- teenth century, the British instituted indentured labour—a ‘new form of slavery’ (Tinker 1974). The ‘indentured “coolies” were half slaves, bound over body and soul by a hundred and one regulations’ (Joshi 1942: 44). In 1884, the British consul in Paramaribo stated that ‘the Surinam planters … found in the meek Hindu a ready substitution for the negro slave he had lost’ (Emmer 1986: 187). The chapters dis- cuss the multiple forms of migration that accompanied indentured labour and the political, social and economic effects of such migration in order to explore the historical production of old Indian diaspora. In Chapter 2, Rajesh Rai analyses the socio-political factors that in- fluenced the Indian diaspora in South-east Asia (Malaysia, Singapore and Myanmar). The Indian and Hindu influence in this region was evident from the third century, largely through traders and religious missionaries. However, it was during the British colonial era that in- dentured Indians became visible in South-east Asia because of the need for labour in the plantations and in port cities such as Penang and Singapore. The indenture, kangany and maistry labour systems ‘ensured that the Indian community remained poor and exploited with meagre wages and harsh working conditions’. In contrast to free Chinese labourers, there were no opportunities for upward socio- economic mobility for indentured Indians. Therefore, Indians have largely remained as ‘minions of colonialism’ in the region.
  • 43.
    24 Brij Maharaj InChapter 3, Vadivella Belle focuses on the experiences of inden- tured Indians in the plantations of Malaysia. In common with the South African experience, the Malaysian Indian community was divided in terms of language, caste and ethnic origin, but the main fissure was class-based between the minority professional, business and civil service occupations and the masses in the plantations. A numerical minority, Indians have also been relegated to the margins of Malaysian society, both in terms of culture and religion, and their ‘economic insignificance’. An indictment against the Indian middle class was their failure to support or assist the ‘forgotten Malaysians’. The celebration of the festival of Thaipusam is used to illustrate a re- surgent Hindu identity with global diasporic connections. In Chapter 4, Henry Srebrnik focuses on the trials and tribulations of Indian indentured labourers in Fiji. As in South Africa, access to land was responsible for a great deal of conflict between the Indians and the ethnic Fijians. Henry Srebrnik refers to colonial Fiji as ‘a “three-legged stool”, in which indigenous Fijians provided the land, Indians the cheap labour and Europeans the capital’. Politically the ethnic Fijians were opposed to sharing power with the Indo-Fijians. Both groups remain largely socially and spatially segregated, even after living in the same country for more than a century. The Indians wereviewedasoutsiders,andunderconditionsof ‘bipolarcompetition, religion, ethnicity and “race” have become salient markers of power or powerlessness’. An interesting issue that he raises is whether indigen- ous rights supersede individual human rights. In their chapter focusing on indentured Indian labour in the West Indies, Sahadeo Basdeo and Brinsley Samaroo trace the life trajec- tories of four Indo-Caribbean political leaders in the twentieth century. In the colonial and postcolonial eras, there were tensions between the colonial rulers, as well as people of Asian and African origin in the West Indies. The different leaders tried to reduce these tensions, drawing from eastern and western cultural and educational experiences. How- ever, the ‘fear of a united protest movement galvanized the colonizers into repressive action’. The authors argue that the ‘Indo-Caribbean leaders were among the first to break the barriers of political isola- tion imposed upon the people of Indian origin by colonialism and indenture’. Subsequently, these leaders also enjoyed the support of some of the local African population. Rather than developing a ‘blind
  • 44.
    Introduction 25 loyalty toIndia’, there was an attempt to get the indentured labourers and their descendents to identify with their ‘new janam bhoomi’. There are certain common themes in terms of the indentured ex- perience in countries such as Mauritius, West Indies, Fiji and Malaysia in the nineteenth century. In the different colonies the indentured Indians came as isolated individuals, not in family units, and men were in the overwhelming majority. The labourers were housed in shacks and huts with no privacy. There was no documentary proof of ‘legal’ marriages. Yet, the indentured Indians were able to develop stable families and recreate some of social and cultural values from the Indian context. Their economic achievements have also left them in contradictory positions with reference to indigenous populations at whose expense the indentured system encouraged them to some- times prosper. It is evident from the different chapters that the Indian diaspora is heterogeneous in terms of religion, education, language and regional origins. In spite of their different backgrounds and their multiple spa- tial locations, diasporic Indians also have some common features. As pointed out by Jain (1993: 45) this includes the extended family, as well as ‘sharply defined family roles and status based on patriarchy, gerontocracy and the subordination of the individual to the inter- ests of the family’, although these features are also constantly chang- ing. The influence of religion and culture is very dominant. In the complex dialectic relationships between migration, religion and na- tionalism, it has been contended that migration, since it challenges identity, often exacerbates a certain nationalism expressed by religion (Van der Veer 1994). Indians in the indentured diaspora have had varying fortunes. The different chapters illustrate that Indians have had little polit- ical influence in the different colonies. Although ‘they have not lacked initiative and have sometimes resisted pressures, the history of the Asian communities is largely one of accommodation to the prevail- ing historical situation’ (Ghai and Ghai 1971: 5). As they attempted to adjust in an alien and hostile environment they encountered con- flict sometimes simultaneously, sometimes sequentially, with the colonial rulers and the indigenous majority. The different chapters in this section reveal that the nature of co- lonial social organisation was largely based on racial lines with nascent
  • 45.
    26 Brij Maharaj conflictbetween different groups resurfacing periodically. This in- evitably generated practices and outlooks which were antagonistic and opposed to any form of inter-racial interaction. The Asians were especially isolated from other indigenous groups (Ghai and Ghai 1965). Asian ethnic identities were influenced by segregation, eco- nomic competition and through cultural ties in a variably hostile environment (Clarke et al. 1990). According to many, Indians feared losing their cultural identity and were inclined to be ‘over religious, rigid, conservative, orthodox, close and restrictive …’ (Motwani and Motwani 1989: 3). Rather than engaging with the indigenous major- ity, the Indians often retreated into their cultural and religious cocoons in the highly racialised environment. However, racism was clearly not the preserve of one community. If Indians were prone to withdraw into their own culture, other communities are just as much swayed by racial considerations, and the case of Fiji is instructive. By the time the colonies attained independence, Indians were a significantforceintheeconomy(withtheexceptionofMalaya),butwere often insulated as a community and marginalised politically. While the colonial state fostered a collective Asian identity from above, this was reinforced by impulses emanating from within the Asian community itself. Caught between an antagonistic colonial minority govern- ment and fear of the indigenous masses, the Asians confirmed their cultural identity (Desai and Maharaj 1996). This cultural detachment of Asians from the mainstream has ‘indirectly invited or contributed to racial discrimination by the natives against Indians, which has later turned into racial atrocity in several countries after their inde- pendence’ (Motwani and Motwani 1989: 3). In the postcolonial era, Asians ‘stood out as discordant, unassimilable citadels of exclusive- ness’ (Bhatia 1973: 18). A major challenge for the survival of Asians in the different dias- poras in the postcolonial era was to reduce and transcend this cultural divide (Bhushan 1989). In the colonial, postcolonial and contemporary eras, the indentured Indians have primarily played the role of middle- man minorities, often being portrayed as scapegoats and villains in times of economic and political crisis. According to Blalock (1967), the distinguishing feature of middleman minorities is the economic role they play. Unlike most ethnic minorities, they occupy an inter- mediate rather than a low-status position. They are generally found in
  • 46.
    Introduction 27 certain occupations,mainly trade and commerce, but also as labour contractors, rent collectors, moneylenders and brokers. They play the role of middleman between producer and consumer, employer and employee, owner and tenant, élite and masses. The nature of colonial social formation which resulted in the dif- ferential incorporation of the various racial groups, enjoying differ- ent levels of rewards, set the stage for seeking a scapegoat and revenge for long-suffering misery. After independence, the colonial racial divisions and the associated and perceived advantages accruing to Asians were challenged in various ways. There were also various tensions and divisions, relating to class, caste, religion and language, and associated changes with the passage of time and isolation from India. REFERENCES Bhatia, P. 1973. Indian Ordeal in Africa. Delhi: Vikas. Bhushan, K. 1989. ‘Indians in Kenya’, in J.K. Motwani and J. Barot-Motwani (eds), Global Migration of Indians: Saga of Adventure, Enterprise, Identity and Integration, pp. 53–55. New York: First Global Convention of People of Indian Origin. Blalock, H. 1967. Toward a Theory of Minority Group Relations. New York: John Wiley. Clarke, C., C. Peach and S. Vertovec. 1990. ‘Introduction: Themes in the Study of the South Asian Diaspora’, in C. Clarke, C. Peach and S. Vertovec (eds), South Asians Overseas—Migration and Ethnicity, pp. 1–29. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Desai, A. and B. Maharaj. 1996. ‘Minorities in the Rainbow Nation: The Indian Vote in 1994’, South African Journal of Sociology, 26: 118–25. Emmer, P.C. 1986. ‘The Meek Hindu: The Recruitment of Indian Indentured Labourers for Service Overseas, 1870–1916’, in P.C. Emmer (ed.), Colonialism and Migration: Indentured Labour Before and After Slavery, pp. 187–207. Dordrecht: Martinus Nijhoff Publishers. Ghai, D.P. and Y.P. Ghai. 1965. ‘Asians in East Africa: Problems and Prospects’, The Journal of Modern African Studies, 3: 35–51. ———. 1971. The Asian Minorities of East and Central Africa. London: Minority Rights Group. Jain, R.K. 1993. Indian Communities Abroad: Themes and Literature. New Delhi: Manohar. Joshi, P.S. 1942. The Tyranny of Colour—A Study of the Indian Problem in South Africa. Durban: EP and Commercial Printing Press.
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    28 Brij Maharaj Motwani,J.K. and J.B. Motwani. 1989. ‘Introduction’, in J.K. Motwani and J. Barot- Motwani (eds), Global Migration of Indians: Saga of Adventure, Enterprise, Identity and Integration, pp. 1–5. New York: First Global Convention of People of Indian Origin. Tinker, H. 1974. A New System of Slavery—The Export of Indian Labour Overseas. London: Oxford University Press. Van der Veer, P. 1994. Religious Nationalism: Hindus and Muslims in India. Berkeley: University of California Press.
  • 48.
    2 ‘Positioning’ the IndianDiaspora: The South-east Asian Experience RAJESH RAI Indians abroad have, of late, received widespread publicity in the Indian media. Since 2003, the Indian state has joined the fanfare, organising the annual Pravasi Bharatiya Divas to honour its diaspora. It is now commonplace for Indians to remark on how well they have done abroad. Others observe that non-resident Indians (NRIs) are the ‘new Brahmins’, the veracity of which is easily verifiable through Inter- net marriage sites where grooms from the diaspora are most favoured. Yet, such celebratory views have been shaped by the success of Indians in the United States (US) and other western countries. Needless to say, the Indian diaspora in the US, while heterogeneous in itself, reflects only one facet of the diaspora, formed primarily from the movement ofprofessionalsinthelatterdecadesofthetwentiethcentury.Elsewhere, the Indian experience has been shaped by vastly different trajec- tories, and in some cases is the outcome of contact spanning many centuries. The position of these communities within their host societies may differ considerably from that of Indians in the west. Accordingly, this study analyses the socio-historical forces that have shaped an- other silhouette of the diaspora—that of Indians in South-east Asia. The presence of Indians in South-east Asia has a long history ex- tending to the period before the Christian era. It is one of the few regions, if not the only region outside South Asia, where the journey of Indians has continued from the pre-modern, through the colo- nial and into the contemporary age of globalisation. The Indian dias- pora in South-east Asia is thus the outcome of many movements.
  • 49.
    30 Rajesh Rai Initiallycomprising merchants and traders, the advent of colonial- ism saw the arrival of Indian labourers, ‘convicts’, imperial auxiliaries made up of the colonial militia and administrators, teachers and med- ical personnel. From the last decade of the twentieth century, Indian professionals in the information technology (IT) and communica- tions sector have added to this heterogeneity, particularly in Singapore and to a lesser extent in Malaysia. While Indian communities can be found in all parts of South-east Asia, their presence is especially important in Malaysia, Myanmar (known as Burma until the military junta changed its name in 1989) and Singapore where they form significant minorities, and have played a crucial role in the development of this region from the nine- teenth century onwards. The vast majority of Indians arrived here as labourers and auxiliaries linked to the colonial enterprise, which in turn constructed the framework upon which they functioned in these societies. This had repercussions on Indians in terms of their relationship with the land on which they laboured, and in the way they were perceived by other communities. Colonialism also left important legacies, most clearly in the form of its unintended by- product—nationalism—which would have a bearing on the post- colonial relations between communities in the host society. Since independence, however, the approach of each of these states towards minorities, nation-building and economic development have been marked by considerable difference, all of which have left an imprint on the diaspora. What follows is an overview of the early relations between India and South-east Asia prior to the arrival of Europeans, an analysis of the socio-historical conditions relevant to the establishment of Indian diaspora(s) in Malaysia, Myanmar and Singapore under colonial rule, and an examination of the development of these communities after independence with a focus on the political, economic and so- cial position of Indian minorities in these states. CONTACT IN THE AGE OF MERCHANTS Although the exact location of Kautiliya’s Suvarnabhumi is a subject of academic debate, many scholars are of the view that the locus of this
  • 50.
    ‘Positioning’ the IndianDiaspora 31 abode, mentioned first in the third century BC, was within the geo- graphical matrix of what is today South-east Asia (Lochan 2006: 189). While evidence of the Indian presence in the region in the pre-Christian era is scarce, the historical imprint of India on South-east Asia in the early centuries of the first millennium AD is more conspicuous. The cultural and religious significance of Indian merchants was evi- dent in three ‘Hinduised’ kingdoms (Funan, Champa and Kambuja) that ruled large areas of present-day Cambodia and Vietnam from the first century to the thirteenth century (Pairaudeau 2006: 200). Itinerant merchants and traders formed the mainstay of the Indian presence in the region, although they were not the only arrivals. Draw- ing from the Chinese annals Nan-chou I-wu Chih, the T’ai-ping Yu Lan and the Wen-hsieh T’ung K’ao, Amarjiva Lochan speaks of immigrant Brahmins who ‘falsifying the notion of taboo in sea crossing’ (Lochan 2006: 189) settled in various locations in Thailand from the third cen- tury onwards. In addition to their considerable role in the courts of isthmian Thailand, many natives in the region allowed the marriage of their daughters to these Brahmins in an effort to induce them to set- tle permanently (Lochan 2006: 189). Indian communities compris- ing traders and religious ‘missionaries’ were also evident in Myanmar from the second century (Than 2006: 168). The Indian imprint was not limited to the countries that make up mainland South-east Asia. During the early centuries of the first mil- lennium, Java and Sumatra were inspired by Indian political, cultural and religious ideas. While South Indian traders were particularly prominent, Gujarati merchants were also prevalent in these parts. Kernial Singh Sandhu writes that references of Gujarati contact with South-east Asia can be found in ancient folk tales such as the Jatakattavannana, the Ras-Mala and in old Gujarati ballads and legends dating to the fifth century which tell us that: Te Jae Jave, te kadi nahi ave Ave to, sath pidhi baitke khave. Who goes to Java, Never returns. If by chance, he returns, Then for seven generations to live upon Money enough, he brings back (Sandhu 1981: 49–50).
  • 51.
    32 Rajesh Rai Indianscripts, Hinduism and Buddhism affected the development of language and religion in Java and Sumatra and the ‘continued popu- larity of the epics, the Ramayana and Mahabharata, the magnificient stupas in Borobudur, the Prambanan Temple in Yogyakarta and the persistence of Hinduism in Bali are testimony to the connection with India’ (Singh 2006: 195). An outcrop of the growth of Islamic power in the Indian subcon- tinent in the early second millennium was the spread of Islam to South-east Asia. The popularity of Islam in coastal regions and amongst mercantile communities in South India and Gujarat provided a spur to the movement of Indian Muslim traders abroad. Further relieved of religious and social constraints to long distance travel, and draw- ing from the concomitant aims of fostering material gain alongside the spiritual mission of spreading their religion, these Muslim traders ventured in greater numbers to South-east Asia. Marco Polo who passed through the region in 1292 recorded that Ferlac (Perlak) in north-eastern Sumatra ‘was so frequented by Muslim merchants that they converted the natives to Islam’ (Sandhu 1981: 52). Following the power vacuum in the Straits of Malacca after the fall of the Buddhist Sri Vijaya Empire in the fourteenth century, the pattern that had re- sulted in the conversion of ‘Ferlac’ to Islam was repeated in many parts of South-east Asia. Particularly important was the role of Gujarati and Tamil Muslim traders in the conversion, in the fifteenth century, of the international port of Malacca to Islam. Here the prominence of Indians was reflected in the appointment of the Tamil Muslim trader, Raja Kassim, as mantri. From Malacca, Islam spread to other parts of the Malayan Peninsula and to the Indonesian Archipelago. From Portuguese sources,1 it is clear that Indian movement to South-east Asia at this time was certainly not limited to Muslim trad- ers. Toma Pires, for example, informs us that in Malacca, Hindu mer- chants of South India—labelled klings—controlled the bulk of trade and had an important say in fixing the dues paid by merchants. Sandhu further argues that it was the Chettiar Hindu trader, Naina ‘Chetu’, who aided the release of Portuguese prisoners in Malacca in 1511 and that non-Muslim mercenaries made up an important component of Alfonso de Albuquerque’s militia that captured Malacca in 1511 (Sandhu 1981).
  • 52.
    ‘Positioning’ the IndianDiaspora 33 BRITISH COLONIALISM AND THE INDIAN DIASPORA IN MYANMAR, MALAYA AND SINGAPORE Although India’s influence on South-east Asia was considerable prior to the arrival of the Europeans, Indians in the region were largely transients, moving to and from the subcontinent to trade their wares. Permanent settlement, while evident, was exceptional, on a small scale and limited to key ports. Of those who settled prior to colonial rule, many married local women and their descendents—known as jawi pekan in Malaya—were largely assimilated into the local culture. It was only after the advent of colonialism that substantial numbers of Indians arrived in South-east Asia, particularly in Malaya, Myanmar and Singapore—all of which were British colonies—where they came to form distinct diasporas. The British were relative late-comers in establishing colonies in South-east Asia. Their desire to acquire strategic ports in the region, particularly the Straits of Malacca, was aimed at securing the British East India Company’s (EIC) trading interests on the India–China trade route. These strategic outposts were also intended to safeguard their position in India vis-à-vis other European powers that had either established bases in South-east Asia or were seeking to do so. Of par- ticular concern in the region were the Dutch who from the seven- teenth century onwards had established a formidable presence in the East Indies (contemporary Indonesia). Likewise, there was a need to counteract the French, who were seen as the main European adver- saries to British aspirations in India in the late eighteenth century. Although the British had, by the early eighteenth century, estab- lished an outpost at Fort Marlborough (Bencoolen), this settlement was not financially viable because it was distant from the main trad- ing routes in the region. The establishment of Penang as a colony in 1786, however, marked the beginning of a formidable British presence in the Straits of Malacca. Further attempts at finding a base closer to the centre of the trade route led to the founding of Singapore by Stamford Raffles in 1819. The British position on the eastern flank of the Straits was secured following the Anglo-Dutch treaty of 1824 which saw the exchange of Bencoolen for Malacca. Singapore, Penang andMalaccaformedthePresidencyoftheStraitsSettlementsfrom1826
  • 53.
    34 Rajesh Rai andwere administered as the ‘Eastern Presidency of the British-Indian Government’ until 1867 when its administration was transferred to the colonial office in London (Tan and Major 1995). British attempts at ensuring the supply of raw materials such as tin from the Malay states on the peninsula led to growing intervention in local affairs. By the early twentieth century, Britain had taken over direct rule of the federated Malay states through British Residents and instituted indirect rule in the unfederated Malay states through ‘advisors’. The British expansion in Burma meanwhile was triggered by the growing conflict on her frontiers with British India. Following three wars, in 1824, 1852 and 1885, Britain was able to gain control of all of Burma, making it a province of British India with the capital at Rangoon. Theneedforcheaplabourfortheresource-basedeconomyinMalaya and Burma resulted in the colonial authorities ‘assisting’ through the indenture, kangany and maistry systems in the migration of Indians to these parts. The bulk of Indians (approximately 80 per cent) who arrived during the colonial era were labour migrants used for work in plantations or as coolies in ports such as Singapore and Penang. Although the primary source of migrants to Malaya and Singapore was from southern China, the British were cautious in ensuring that they did not depend on a single ethnic group for labour. While this created multi-racial societies, the colonial perception that ‘racial’ com- munities possessed a group loyalty, ensured that stringent efforts were undertaken to divide these groups. British employers were advised: To secure your independence, work with Javanese and Tamils, and if you have sufficient experience, also with Malays and Chinese, you can always play the one against the other… In case of a strike, you will never be left without labour, and the coolies of one nationality will think twice be- fore they make their terms, if they know you are in a position that you can do without them. (Kaur 2001: 189) The vast majority of Indian migrants were from the Madras Presi- dency as the Indian government refused to allow the emigration of Indian labourers to Singapore and Malaya from other parts of the subcontinent (Walker 1994). Lower-caste Adi Dravida labour from these parts were also preferred in British plantations as colonial dis- course in Malaya constructed the myth of the ‘docile’ and ‘malleable’ South Indian:
  • 54.
    ‘Positioning’ the IndianDiaspora 35 Of the people of the subcontinent the South Indian peasant, particularly the untouchable or low caste Madrasi, was considered the most satisfactory type of labourer, especially for light, simple repetitive tasks. He was malleable, worked well under supervision and was easily manageable… He was not [as] ambitious as most of his Northern Indian compatriots and certainly nothing like the Chinese. (Sandhu 1969: 56) The economic and political position of Indians in Malaya can be traced back to the systems of migration ushered by colonial rule, chief- ly the labour structure of the overlords. The indenture and kangany system of labour recruitment that was implemented in Malaya ensured that the Indian community remained poor and exploited with meagre wages and harsh working conditions (Kaur 2006: 158–60). Colonial- ism effectively ‘deprived the community of the economic foundation necessary for a politically significant role’ (Muzaffar 1993: 212). The decline in status was particularly stark when compared to the Indian position prior to the advent of colonialism when they were respected as traders and harbingers of religion and culture. These ‘assisted’ systems of migration revealed clear features of slav- ery, namely, the absence of free market mobility and even a psycho- logical if not real sense of subservience that the labourer had towards his employer. The control mechanisms existent within these systems, alongside the meagre wages that encouraged the accumulation of debt created a web that deprived Indian plantation workers the op- portunity for upward mobility, a pattern unlike that observed in free labourers like that of the Chinese in Malaysia who were allowed to exercise some degree of influence over their livelihood. Nonetheless, not all Indian emigrants to Malaya and Singapore during the colonial period were labourers. The period also saw the ar- rival of the imperial auxiliaries to Malaya and Singapore. While small numbers of militia from Uttar Pradesh and Bihar were to be found in Fort Marlborough, Penang and Singapore in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth century, from the 1870s, the Sikhs undertook a key role in law enforcement (Dusenbery 1997: 740). In addition, the British also encouraged the immigration of educated Sri Lankan Tamils and Malayalis to function as administrators, teachers, technical and med- ical personnel (Rai 2006: 178). The stream of Indian commercial migrants also continued to arrive to the peninsula. Prominent amongst these were the Chulias (Tamil Muslim traders) and the Nattukottai Chettiars who had an extensive
  • 55.
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    rudement délicate... Pardi,la conduite de ton père me paraît fâcheuse, déplorable même, et je donnerais je ne sais quoi pour l'en faire changer... Mais entre cela et aller dire à un homme de cet âge, à un homme de l'importance de ton père: «Mon petit, je te défends de retourner chez madame Une Telle... Et désormais tu n'iras plus...», entre cela et ceci il y a une différence!... —Ainsi tu refuses de le raisonner, d'avoir avec lui un entretien sérieux?... fit Mlle Raindal qui repoussait sa chaise. —Je ne refuse pas! rectifia l'ex-employé... Je t'explique la difficulté, la presque impossibilité de la mission dont tu désirerais me charger... Sans compter que ton père n'est pas commode, que c'est très bien un homme à m'envoyer promener, à me déclarer que tout cela ne me regarde pas... Après quoi il ne me restera plus qu'à prendre mes cliques et mes claques et à me brouiller avec lui! Il avait saisi son tricycle par le guidon et le manœuvrait autour de la pièce, pour en expérimenter les roulements. Puis il ajouta: —En résumé, tu m'as bien compris?... Je ne te refuse pas... Je te soumets le problème... Estimes-tu, la main sur la conscience, que j'ai des chances de succès?... Si oui, le temps de mettre mon chapeau et je suis en route... Si non, il vaudrait mieux ne pas m'exposer, pour le plaisir, à un camouflet inutile... Réfléchis! —C'est tout réfléchi, mon oncle! fit Thérèse en domptant un sourire dédaigneux... Je finis par penser comme toi... Il est plus convenable que tu ne paraisses pas dans cette triste affaire... M. Raindal cadet dévisageait sa nièce d'un coup d'œil défiant. —Ho! ho! mademoiselle, nous sommes vexée, on dirait?... Je suis encore à tes ordres... Mais, crois-moi, ne t'emballe pas... Considère la question à tête reposée... Et je te parie une discrétion contre une boîte de cigares que pas plus tard que dans deux jours, tu donneras raison à ton vieux scélérat d'oncle!...
  • 57.
    Il l'attirait entreses bras et la baisant au front: —Du reste, qui nous dit que cet engouement durera?... Ton père s'est emporté, parce que vous le contrecarriez, et que les Raindal ont horreur de la contradiction... Soupes au lait!... Sitôt retirées du feu, elles tombent... Et tu viendrais ce soir m'apprendre que tout est arrangé, que ton père va avec vous à Langrune, baste! je n'en serais pas autrement étonné!... Ils arrivaient sur le palier. Thérèse serra mollement la main de son oncle. —Oh! cette main en coton! protesta M. Raindal cadet... Voulez-vous donner la main un peu mieux? Thérèse lui obéit. —Très bien! approuva-t-il... Bravo! A bientôt, mon neveu... Et sans rancune aucune, hein?... Thérèse descendit en se retenant à la rampe. Elle éprouvait dans les jambes une faiblesse d'étourdissement. Ses idées s'emmêlaient dans une accablante impression de défaite et d'impuissance. Sous la porte cochère, elle s'arrêta, hésitante. Elle ne cherchait même pas à définir son isolement, ni à élucider la grossière défection de l'oncle. Elle se sentait hébétée, paralysée, irrémédiablement vaincue. Elle s'achemina à pas lents vers la rue Notre-Dame-des-Champs. Les passants la dévisageaient, surpris par sa physionomie égarée, ses yeux sans regard, son expression de douleur secrète. Chagrin d'amour?... Ces gants de fil jaunâtres, cette robe en alpaga roussi, ce chapeau de paille à prix fixe—et de plus pas bien jolie!... Non! Une gouvernante congédiée plutôt... Sans s'inquiéter de leurs coups d'œil, sans les voir, elle longeait la façade des maisons, comme par besoin d'appui, au cas où elle pâmerait. Mais, à l'angle de la rue Vavin, une brusque image, un
  • 58.
    nom, l'immobilisèrent subitement:Bœrzell. Eh! oui, c'était la suprême ressource, le suprême protecteur contre la catastrophe prochaine, contre la ruine qui menaçait à bref délai le foyer familial! Ses traits détendus par l'angoisse se vivifièrent d'un reflet d'espoir. Elle pressait l'allure. En cinq minutes, elle fut rue de Rennes, devant la porte de Pierre Bœrzell. Au coup de sonnette, il vint ouvrir lui-même. Il était en bras de chemise, sans faux col à cause de la chaleur, son cou gras et blanc émergeant à l'aise hors du linge. Il poussa un cri de stupeur en reconnaissant Thérèse, et vivement il lissait de la main sa chevelure ébouriffée: —Vous, mademoiselle!... Ce n'est pas un malheur qui vous amène? Thérèse eut un sourire contraint: —Non, monsieur Bœrzell!... Un service, un conseil à vous demander... —Vous permettez, mademoiselle?... Je passe devant... Et, sitôt dans la pièce attenante au vestibule,—son cabinet de travail, une minuscule chambrette dont livres et brochures encombraient la table, les chaises, le divan,—il s'excusa sur la petitesse du local: —Vous voyez!... Je suis bien à l'étroit... Et ma chambre est encore plus bourrée de livres... Il faudra que je déménage un de ces jours! Il débarrassait en hâte le divan: —Veuillez vous asseoir, mademoiselle... De quoi s'agit-il? Mais en même temps il s'esquivait du côté de sa chambre. Il rentra sans tarder. Il avait endossé un veston et attaché à sa chemise un col blanc avec une cravate.
  • 59.
    —Voilà!... Je suistout à vous... En quoi puis-je vous servir, mademoiselle?... Thérèse, avec mille réticences, recommença son récit. Bœrzell l'entrecoupait de hochements de tête navrés. Mais l'égoïste accueil de l'oncle Cyprien poussa au comble son indignation. —C'est trop fort! déclarait-il... Non, c'est trop écœurant!... —C'est cependant ainsi! riposta Thérèse... Vous saviez déjà une partie de nos anxiétés, avant la scène de ce matin. Vous savez tout maintenant!... Je suis venue chez vous comme chez un ami sûr... J'ai en votre discrétion, en votre jugement, en votre affection, une foi absolue... Répondez sans ambages... A notre place, que feriez- vous?... Bœrzell dressa les bras dans un geste désespéré: —Ah! mademoiselle!... Vous me direz que je choisis mal mon heure pour vous adresser des reproches... Pourtant vous conviendrez que, si vous vous aviez été moins rigoureuse, moins impitoyable, nous ne serions pas aujourd'hui dans une détresse aussi cruelle!... —Comment cela? fit Thérèse. —Oui, j'ai tenu ma promesse, je l'ai tenue religieusement... Jamais je ne vous ai parlé mariage... Une foule d'occasions s'en offraient... Je n'ai profité d'aucune... Je comptais sur votre bon cœur pour me délier un jour de ce serment... Plus je pénétrais dans votre intimité, plus mon espoir s'affermissait... Eh bien! je déplore ma patience, je déplore ma fidélité... Si j'y avais manqué, je présume qu'actuellement nous serions mariés... Et, une fois votre mari, je pouvais vous secourir, je pouvais m'immiscer dans vos dissensions de famille, je pouvais discuter avec M. Raindal, je pouvais le persuader, le fléchir... Tandis que maintenant, qu'est-ce que je puis? Rien, rien, moins que rien!... M. Raindal, aux premiers mots, me désignerait la porte... Ah! mademoiselle, tenez, en voilà un cas, un
  • 60.
    bien pénible cas,hélas! où ce mariage dont vous faisiez tellement fi aurait pu devenir utile!... Il marchait à travers la pièce, se cognant à la table, aux sièges qu'il écartait ensuite de la main. Thérèse murmura: —Et, en dehors de ce mariage, vous n'entrevoyez pas de solution?... —Non, mademoiselle! riposta fébrilement Bœrzell... Je ne suis ni votre parent, ni votre allié... Je n'ai aucune prise sur votre père... Il exhala un long soupir: —Et moi qui me jetterais au feu pour vous, moi qui vous sacrifierais tout, oui tout ce que vous réclameriez de moi, voyez un peu où j'en suis réduit!... A vous renvoyer comme une pauvresse, comme une étrangère qui implore la charité!... Il ne me reste même pas la consolation de vous donner un conseil... Votre père est le maître... Vous n'avez qu'à vous incliner, à le laisser partir seul si tel est son désir... Thérèse, à bout de forces, s'était mise à pleurer, la tête renversée contre le dossier du divan, son mouchoir appuyé aux yeux. —Et vous pleurez! poursuivait Bœrzell... Et je suis obligé de vous laisser pleurer... Si j'osais seulement vous approcher ou prendre votre main sans votre permission, je vous deviendrais aussitôt odieux... Un ami, oui, mais un ami qu'on tient à distance, et qu'à la moindre protestation d'amour on traiterait comme le contraire d'un galant homme!... —Non, monsieur Bœrzell!... balbutiait Thérèse entre deux sanglots... Vous exagérez... C'est vrai, j'ai été très dure envers vous... Mais je vous aime beaucoup... beaucoup plus que jadis... Il s'arrêta pour la contempler. Elle le fixait sympathiquement de ses yeux gris noyés de larmes. En un inconscient mouvement de
  • 61.
    tendresse elle tenditvers lui sa main. Il avait eu un naïf recul d'incrédulité; et, saisissant la main de Thérèse, sans s'agenouiller, sans nulle démonstration de prétendant exaucé: —Quoi, mademoiselle! fit-il d'une voix grave où perçait l'intensité de son émoi... Est-ce que je me trompe?... Est-ce que je me méprends sur le sens de vos paroles?... Vous voudriez bien, vous consentiriez?... —Je ne sais pas! soupira Mlle Raindal à la fois opprimée par le découragement et touchée par cette anxiété... Plus tard... peut- être... Je verrai... —Oh! merci! s'écria Bœrzell en pressant ardemment la main fiévreuse de Thérèse... Merci, mademoiselle... Vous verrez, vous aussi... Vous verrez comme je m'efforcerai à vous rendre heureuse, tranquille... Il la regardait avec bonté, de petits frissons de gratitude courant à l'angle de ses tempes. Mais, d'un coup, toute sa figure se rembrunit, et lâchant, sans rudesse, la main de la jeune fille: —Au fait, non... Ce serait abuser de votre état, de votre désarroi... Je ne veux pas d'un consentement que je vous aurais extorqué au milieu du chagrin et des larmes... Notre mariage ne doit s'accomplir que par votre libre volonté et dans la parfaite maîtrise de vous- même... Plus tard, comme vous dites, quand vous aurez recouvré votre calme, votre clairvoyance, si vous éprouvez envers moi les mêmes sentiments, vous savez quel bonheur vous me causerez en acceptant d'être ma femme... Jusque-là je ne désire rien de vous que votre amitié... Nous ne sommes pas des héros de roman, ni des sots, ni des détraqués... Il ne faut pas que notre union se conclue par subterfuge, par surprise, par entraînement irréfléchi... Plutôt renoncer à vous toujours que vous avoir conquise par ces moyens médiocres... Et dans la suite, quoi qu'il advienne, je vous affirme que ni vous ni moi nous ne regretterons notre sagesse d'aujourd'hui, n'est-ce pas, mademoiselle?...
  • 62.
    Il s'était plantédevant Thérèse et l'interrogeait des yeux. Elle soutint longuement la ténacité de ce regard, puis, d'un accent mélancolique: —Vous êtes la raison même! fit-elle... Vous êtes le meilleur et le plus loyal des amis... Soit!... Attendons... C'est effectivement plus digne des vieux sages que nous sommes... Cependant j'aurais aimé à vous prouver ma reconnaissance, à ne pas vous quitter, après ce que nous nous sommes dit, sans une marque d'amitié... —Bien facile, mademoiselle! repartit posément Bœrzell. —Quoi donc?... —Permettez-moi, de toutes façons,—que M. Raindal vienne ou non, —de vous accompagner à Langrune. C'était pour moi une peine réelle que cette villégiature qui allait nous éloigner l'un de l'autre... Plus d'une fois, j'ai été sur le point de vous demander l'autorisation... Et j'ajournais la demande par peur de vous déplaire... A présent, je suis plus brave... Dites, me permettez-vous? Mlle Raindal derechef lui tendait la main: —Quelle question, monsieur Bœrzell!... Mais avec joie!... Cette fois, il s'enhardit à un baiser de remerciement. Thérèse, par mégarde, s'était plainte d'avoir soif. Il se précipita vers sa chambre et revint portant un plateau. En un moment il eut préparé un verre d'eau sucrée où il versa quelques gouttes de rhum. —Ménage de garçon, ménage de savant! grommelait-il par plaisanterie en tournant la cuiller... Pas d'eau de mélisse... pas de sels anglais... rien de ce qu'il faut pour recevoir les dames!... Et, se corrigeant aussitôt: —Chut!... Je me lance dans les allusions au mariage... Je ne me rappelais plus que mon serment recommence... Thérèse buvait avidement, en lui souriant des paupières. Elle sursauta au timbre de la pendule, où tintaient les trois coups de trois
  • 63.
    heures. —Et cette pauvremère que j'oublie!... Au revoir... Merci encore. Merci de tout cœur!... A dimanche, n'est-ce pas? Peut-être y aura-t-il eu du nouveau et du bon!... —C'est mon vœu le plus cher, mademoiselle, répliquait sceptiquement Bœrzell. Il s'accouda à la fenêtre pour la regarder partir. D'un pas viril et balancé, elle se frayait la route à travers les passants, avec ce port de tête un peu hautain, que seuls donnent aux femmes la conscience de leur grâce ou l'orgueil de leur pensée. Et Bœrzell avait l'intuition que c'était plus qu'une jeune fille qui s'en allait là-bas: une sorte de tutrice, de mère par l'intellect,—le vrai chef de la famille Raindal. Le tournant de la rue la dérobait à ses regards. Il referma la fenêtre. Il se sentait la poitrine gonflée par un contentement glorieux. Leur conduite à tous deux, la cordiale pureté de leur récent tête-à-tête lui paraissait le fait de personnes non vulgaires. —Nous avons été très chic! résuma-t-il en son dialecte de vieil écolier. Puis se rasseyant à sa table de travail, les yeux rêveurs, et comme formulant un souhait: —Si elle voulait! murmura-t-il... Quelle société pour moi! Quelle épouse!... Car c'est un homme... un homme dans la plus noble acception du mot!...
  • 64.
    XVI Devant le trainqui allait l'emmener aux Frettes, M. Raindal, arrivé un quart d'heure d'avance, faisait les cent pas en réfléchissant. La plupart des compartiments restaient vides, et le quai solitaire déroulait à perte de vue, sans un facteur, sans un camion, le tapis de son asphalte grisâtre. La verrière du haut réfractait une chaleur ombreuse et lourde. C'était ce moment de quasi repos, entre le matin fini et l'après-midi commençante, où, dans les gares, sauf les machines, hommes, wagons, marchandises, tout semble sommeiller. M. Raindal se promenait la tête basse, les mains jointes dans le dos, son grand panama blanc imperceptiblement rejeté en arrière. Il se remémorait une à une les journées précédentes, ce pénible siège de dix jours, dont il sortait enfin vainqueur, quoique confus, lassé, meurtri. Et, par instants, il soupirait. Ah! la semaine avait été rude! Vingt repas de bouderie, de silence absolu, de regards détournés et de mines contrites! Dans l'intervalle, pas un mot, la guerre muette des résistances qui s'entrechoquent sans s'aborder, la parodie forcée de l'aise, parmi le malaise même. Puis, la veille, une heure avant le départ de ces dames pour Langrune, la dernière bataille: Thérèse et Mme Raindal abdiquant tout orgueil, venant affectueusement prier M. Raindal de les suivre, essayant de suprêmes conseils... Un peu plus, et il leur cédait. Ses
  • 65.
    refus s'atténuaient. Lesliens de son serment craquaient. Un imprudent aveu de Thérèse avait changé le sort du combat. —Eh bien! père, j'en conviens!... répondait-elle à un reproche du maître... Nous aurions pu, à la rigueur, nous montrer moins nettement hostiles envers Mme Chambannes, moins froides quand tu parlais de ses réceptions... A cette phrase, M. Raindal s'était senti soulevé par un regain de rancune, un ressouvenir haineux de toutes les taquineries de jadis: —Oui, tu en conviens maintenant! criait-il... Maintenant que tu me vois ancré dans ma résolution, maintenant que tu aperçois l'étendue de vos fautes... Et tu voudrais que j'y ajoute une impolitesse de plus, que je manque de parole à Mme Chambannes qui m'attend... Trop tard! vous n'aviez qu'à vous y prendre plus tôt... Il poursuivit, en grommelant indistinctement, des récriminations vindicatives. Et d'intimes arguments le soutenaient. Supposé qu'il les écoutât, ces dames, ne serait-ce pas encore à recommencer au retour? Non, il leur fallait une petite leçon, un avertissement exemplaire!... Brigitte, qui annonçait l'omnibus de la gare, avait terminé le débat. On s'était embrassé glacialement, du bout des lèvres, avec des promesses précipitées de s'écrire chaque semaine, de se retrouver au mois de septembre. La porte avait claqué. Un roulement de roues pesantes grondait en bas dans la rue. M. Raindal était seul, sauvé, délivré de Langrune... Sans cesser de marcher, le maître exhala un nouveau soupir. A présent, il ne s'illusionnait guère sur la gravité de cette séparation. Combien de ménages survivent à de pareils éclats? La malveillance d'autrui s'en mêle, exacerbe le désaccord. Les griefs s'aiguisent de loin, reviennent plus acérés; et lorsqu'on se revoit, on est presque ennemis.
  • 66.
    Eh quoi! aurait-ildû subir la tyrannie que sa femme et sa fille tentaient de lui imposer? Aurait-il dû sacrifier une précieuse sympathie, une amitié exceptionnelle à leur envie, à leurs préjugés? Aurait-il dû aveuglément se plier à leurs ordres comme un coupable repentant, au lieu d'y opposer la fermeté de l'innocence? —Les voyageurs pour la ligne de Mantes, Maisons-Laffitte, Poissy, Villedouillet, les Mureaux, en voiture! clamait un employé. M. Raindal monta dans son compartiment. Un vieil homme d'équipe fermait après lui la portière. Le maître remarqua sa ressemblance avec l'oncle Cyprien. «Encore un, grommelait-il, qui ne me molestera plus!» Il s'était accoté dans un coin du wagon, son chapeau retiré, tout le buste prêt à la sieste. La pensée de Cyprien le retint quelques minutes éveillé. Jusqu'au dernier moment il avait redouté ses harangues, ses anathèmes et ses malédictions. Mais non. La veille du départ, à dîner, l'oncle Cyprien n'avait exprimé nulle opinion violente en apprenant de la bouche du maître, la double villégiature où se partageait la famille. A peine s'était-il permis une anodine plaisanterie: —Alors, mes bons amis, vous bifurquez?... Bah! si c'est votre goût... Cela repose, quand on se voit l'année entière!... Il paraissait presque gêné, ne quittait pas son assiette des yeux, et n'avait repris sa belle humeur qu'une fois sorti de table... Un drôle de corps, ce Cyprien, un cerveau bien fumeux et sur lequel toute induction était fatalement téméraire!... Ce jugement dédaigneux contenta pleinement le maître. Il s'assoupissait peu à peu. Il ne se réveilla qu'à la station de Villedouillet. Sur le quai, Mme Chambannes, en robe de batiste à fleurs roses et souliers de daim blanc, lui faisait signe de son ombrelle. Elle suivit le
  • 67.
    train jusqu'à l'arrêtet, postée devant le wagon, elle souriait au maître tandis qu'il descendait le raide marche-pied. —Ainsi, ces dames n'ont pas voulu? dit-elle malicieusement, après les premières paroles de bonjour. —Non, chère amie... Pas moyen de les entraîner... Du reste, je n'ai pas trop insisté... La mer est fort salutaire pour Thérèse... —Elles doivent me détester, avouez-le! M. Raindal, qui rougissait, affecta de ricaner: —Heu! heu! Je ne vous dirai pas que ce départ se soit effectué sans certaines objections de part et d'autre... Ces dames ont leurs idées... Moi, j'ai les miennes... Et vous savez que ce ne sont pas toujours les mêmes... Puis il ajouta d'un ton plus fanfaron: —Seulement, elles ont pour habitude de respecter mes volontés et, somme toute, la séparation s'est opérée mieux que je ne l'espérais, malgré la scène regrettable dont, à Paris, je vous avais touché deux mots... Enfin, me voici!... N'est-ce pas l'important?... Il y eut une pause. Zozé, le visage railleusement songeur, s'était arrêtée sur le seuil de la gare. Un tonneau de bois jaune attelé d'un poney bai, à crinière rase, attendait contre le trottoir. Firmin, le valet de chambre, qui se tenait à la tête du poney, salua discrètement le maître. —Tenez, Firmin! dit Mme Chambannes... Gardez le bulletin de M. Raindal... Vous vous occuperez de ses bagages, et vous les ramènerez avec la carriole que j'ai commandée chez le loueur... Elle s'installait dans le tonneau, assise de trois quarts, face à la croupe du cheval dont elle avait saisi les rênes. Le maître prit place vis-à-vis. Zozé caressait d'un léger coup de fouet les flancs du poney. La voiturette dévala par la cour inclinée, tanguant au choc des
  • 68.
    aspérités. Quelques curieux,campés au bord du trottoir, avaient en la regardant partir un sourire à demi narquois. Au bout d'un petit quart d'heure, la voiture s'engagea dans l'avenue, semée de gravier, qui conduisait au perron des Frettes. Des arbres l'encadraient et soudain la maison surgissait,—une vaste construction moderne avec des parois blanches que tranchait, à deux ou trois fenêtres, la tenture bise des stores. Devant, une large pelouse était incrustée, dans les angles, de rosiers, de dahlias et de flox variés en corbeilles. Puis aussitôt, le parc commençait, sombre, touffu, sans bornes apparentes et longeant, sur une longue distance, la route départementale dont une muraille le séparait. A droite, à gauche de la maison, des arbres encore s'enlaçaient, masquant de leurs branchages la campagne d'au delà, formant une clôture épaisse jusqu'en arrière du bâtiment, autour d'une autre pelouse, semblable à un petit pré où le filet d'un tennis cintrait le réseau de ses mailles flasques. «Pour jouir de la vue», comme disait Mme Chambannes, il fallait gagner le second étage. —L'étage de votre chambre, cher maître, et juste, votre côté, en face de la pelouse du tennis... Une vue superbe, vous allez voir. M. Raindal la suivit dans l'escalier qu'emplissait une odeur d'iris. Zozé poussa la fenêtre. Une grande rafale de vent doux entra. Le maître accoudé au balcon contempla lentement le paysage. Par-dessus les arbres, l'immensité de la plaine inférieure se découvrait à l'infini. Les villages avec leurs clochers semblaient des points topographiques marqués, comme sur la carte, d'un dessin puéril. Sur la gauche, les coteaux adverses bombaient leurs pentes quadrillées de cultures jaunes, brunes ou vertes. Et dans le bas, sans qu'on la vît, on devinait la Seine dont une boucle au fond scintillait en forme de serpe.
  • 69.
    —N'est-ce pas quec'est joli? fit Mme Chambannes qui, contre l'appui du balcon, touchait de son coude dodu le coude de M. Raindal. —Fort beau! déclara le maître. Et il murmura, en tournant le regard vers Zozé: —Je suis bien heureux, ma chère amie, bien content d'être près de vous! Elle remercia, de profil, par un sourire candide. A la pleine lumière, la clarté de son teint s'avivait. On y discernait les subtiles nuances finement superposées en un mélange diaphane. Le jour pénétrait la batiste de sa blouse, et un reflet rose-pâle haletait sous l'étoffe. M. Raindal, par devers lui, détailla tous ces charmes. Insensiblement, sans le savoir, il appuyait son coude à celui de la jeune femme. Il s'apprêtait même à saisir la main de sa petite élève—opération toujours périlleuse qu'il ne risquait jamais que par un élan d'audace, —mais, d'un coup, la porte s'ouvrit. La tante Panhias entrait, escortée par un domestique qui portait sur l'épaule la malle de M. Raindal. Dès lors, jusqu'au lendemain, le maître et Zozé ne furent plus seuls. La malle déballée, les visites se succédèrent: Mme Herschstein, Mme Silberschmidt avec une de ses cousines de Breslau, et, à cinq heures, l'abbé Touronde. On se réunit alors, à l'abri d'une sorte de clairière ombreuse, encerclée de tilleuls et de basse futaie,—qui s'ouvrait dans le parc, un peu après l'entrée, sur le flanc de l'allée principale. Au centre de ce vide circulaire, le champignon d'une table en pierre était fiché dans le sol. On y déposa du thé, des gâteaux et des fruits glacés au champagne, que Zozé puisait à l'aide d'une petite louche dorée. Les dames s'étaient assises sur de confortables sièges en jonc, qui avaient toutefois le défaut de crier au poids des personnes trop
  • 70.
    lourdes. M. Raindaladopta de préférence un rocking-chair solide, dont le balancement l'amusait. La causerie se poursuivit à travers des sujets faciles jusqu'au retour de l'oncle Panhias, qui rentra de Paris sur le coup de six heures et demie. Au moment de partir, l'abbé Touronde avait obtenu du maître qu'il viendrait, dans la semaine, visiter son orphelinat. Le dîner fini, M. Raindal demanda la permission de se retirer. Il se disait fatigué par cette journée d'installation. Mme Chambannes l'encouragea à s'aller reposer. Avant de se coucher pourtant, il inspecta sa chambre. Tout y était aménagé avec un raffinement parfait d'élégance campagnarde: les meubles en frêne à poignées de cuivre, les cretonnes anglaises du baldaquin et des rideaux, voire les simples cristaux de la toilette et les sachets de lavande disséminés dans les tiroirs ou sur les planches de l'armoire à glace. Les draps du lit fleuraient l'iris, un iris plus grossier, mais au relent plus sain que celui dont se servait personnellement Zozé. M. Raindal huma avec persistance cette senteur insolite où baignait son corps; puis il souffla d'un trait sa bougie. Il allait s'endormir. Un bruit de pas, au-dessous, lui fit, dans le noir, distendre les paupières. Qui était-ce? Sa petite élève, sa chère amie? Quel flatteur et rare agrément de dormir sous le même toit qu'elle!... A différentes reprises, le maître se retourna dans son lit. Tumultueuses et indécises, mille images lui montraient Zozé. Il soupirait, s'impatientait contre cette captivante insomnie. Le grand air, probablement, la surexcitation du grand air! A la fin il s'y résigna. Étendu sur le dos, il contemplait sans résister le défilé de ses songeries fiévreuses. Elles s'accentuaient plus qu'il n'aurait fallu, lorsque par bonheur le sommeil les balaya toutes.
  • 71.
    Le matin, versdix heures, Mme Chambannes proposa au maître une promenade en tonneau. Ils partirent avec Anselme, le cocher, qui se tenait raide et respectueux, malgré les cahots, dans l'angle de la charrette, près de l'étui à parapluies. La matinée était limpide et fraîche, de cette fraîcheur d'août, tiède encore entre les ardeurs de la veille et celles de la journée, mais d'été quand même, rassurée, et sans rien de frileux qui annonce le froid. Zozé conduisait, les mains hautes, les regards à l'aise et pivotant au gré de la causerie, tandis que le poney trottait de toutes ses forces, en secouant la croupe. Vingt minutes plus tard, on eut atteint la montée sous bois qui précède la minuscule forêt de Verneuil. Le poney se mit d'instinct au pas. De grosses mouches jaillissaient en essaim sous ses fers. D'autres se collèrent goulûment à son encolure ou à ses flancs rebondis. La futaie se diversifiait des plus harmonieuses couleurs. Clairsemée en certains endroits, elle semblait toute blanche par les rangées des minces bouleaux argentés. Plus loin, elle offrait des espaces entièrement roses que la bruyère sauvage avait envahis. La masse sombre des pins, qui dominait partout, se clarifiait aussi de jeunes pousses vert tendre; et leurs fines aiguilles, apportées par le vent, séchaient éparses dans la poussière. Au retour, on fit halte dans la route qui traverse le bois. Le maître et Mme Chambannes s'assirent sur le talus où Anselme avait étendu une couverture. Après quoi, Zozé tira son porte-cigarettes, en s'excusant. A la campagne, n'est-ce pas? la correction peut se relâcher. Et puis, dans un petit bois où on ne rencontre personne!... Elle n'achevait pas cette phrase, que deux jeunes cyclistes apparurent. Ils pédalaient sans hâte, côte à côte. M. Raindal,
  • 72.
    aussitôt, se rappelaavec humeur l'intolérant oncle Cyprien. Les deux jeunes gens se désignaient Zozé d'un clin d'œil goguenard. —Gentille! proféra distinctement le premier. Cette remarque familière acheva d'agacer M. Raindal. —Quel goujat! déclara-t-il, quand les bicyclistes furent passés. —Pourquoi? riposta Zozé en projetant une bouffée... Il ne faut pas se formaliser pour si peu, à la campagne!... Ces trois mots lui constituaient, aux Frettes, une devise favorite, une permanente justification de toutes les fantaisies qu'inventait sa tristesse ou son désœuvrement. Elle s'en autorisa, le lendemain, pour se priver, durant la promenade, des services d'Anselme, dont la présence évidemment paralysait M. Raindal. —Très bonne idée! approuva le maître dès qu'ils furent en route... D'ailleurs il ne servait à rien, ce garçon!... Et il s'empara de la main de sa petite élève, si brusquement, si violemment, que Notpou—c'était le nom, quasi égyptien, donné par Mme Chambannes au poney—exécuta sous le heurt du mors un écart presque épouvanté. —Tenez-vous donc tranquille, cher maître! gronda Zozé qui ramenait la bête dans l'allure... Vous effrayez Notpou... Vous allez nous faire verser!... —Il y avait si longtemps! bredouilla M. Raindal. Elle esquissait un sourire d'indulgence. Le maître, soudain enhardi, interrogea de la voix distraite qu'il employait à ces questions: —Et ces messieurs de Meuze?... Vous avez de leurs nouvelles?...
  • 73.
    Mme Chambannes répliqua, avecun effort pour contenir le sang qu'elle sentait fuser vers ses joues: —Aucune!... Je crois qu'ils sont à Deauville jusqu'à la fin du mois, comme je vous l'ai dit l'autre semaine... Ils devaient y arriver la veille de mon départ... M. Raindal, les mains pendantes au bout des bras, la fixait d'un studieux regard: —Alors ils ne viendront pas ici?... —Pas que je sache, pendant le mois d'août, repartit Zozé qui avait à demi maîtrisé sa rougeur... Et après, ce sera la chasse... Ainsi, vous voyez!... —Parfaitement! murmura le maître, tandis qu'au dedans de lui- même il interpellait avec rage Thérèse. Ah! qu'il l'eût souhaitée là, pour un instant seulement, à portée d'entendre! Voilà comme on accuse et comme on calomnie, sans preuves, sur des impressions jalouses et incertaines! «Une dame qui a publiquement un amant!» se redisait M. Raindal. Publiquement! Un amant! Où cela?... A Deauville peut-être! (Car peu à peu le maître avait circonscrit ses soupçons, rassemblé toute leur vigilance sur la tête de Gérald, l'unique jeune homme, au demeurant, que vît fréquemment Mme Chambannes.) Oui, à Deauville, à cinquante lieues des Frettes, délaissant ses amours durant un mois et plus! Un bel amant, en vérité!... Quelle misère et quelle injustice! Il eut un ricanement de mépris. —Vous riez, cher maître? interrogeait Mme Chambannes. Pour toute réponse d'abord, il prit doucement la main droite de Zozé qui, au-dessous de la main conductrice, retenait l'extrémité des rênes, et, l'élevant jusqu'à ses lèvres: —Je ris, dit-il entre deux baisers, je ris de la méchanceté, ou plus exactement, de la sottise humaine!
  • 74.
    Bientôt le programmedes journées se régularisa. Lorsque la chaleur n'y faisait pas obstacle, le matin était réservé aux promenades en tonneau. On fuyait les parages mondains qui, au delà de Poissy, avoisinent Saint-Germain. On s'acheminait plutôt, selon le cours de la Seine, vers Pontoise, ou même vers Mantes: régions accidentées, montueuses et souvent grandioses dont, comme Mme Chambannes, le maître s'était épris. Le vent y roule ses amples ondes à travers plateaux et collines, avec des saveurs fortes qu'on croirait issues de la mer. Parfois, au sommet d'un chemin encaissé qui monte sous l'ombrage, une perspective inattendue étale des espaces énormes, des forêts, des routes entre- croisées, la largeur du fleuve, un gros bourg, des bœufs dans une prairie, des vignes sur un coteau, tout l'imprévu complexe des campagnes provinciales, loin de Paris, loin de la banlieue... Le maître et Mme Chambannes partaient donc vers neuf heures et ne rentraient que pour déjeuner. D'autres jours, afin de parer aux médisances, ils emmenaient l'abbé Touronde. M. Raindal et l'abbé occupaient une banquette. Zozé, sur l'autre, conduisait. Un jeudi qu'ils avaient, tous trois, poussé jusqu'à Mantes où le maître désirait acheter une paire de souliers jaunes, leur entrée fit sensation. L'étrangeté de la voiture, la grâce mutine de Mme Chambannes, les cheveux blancs de M. Raindal et la soutane de l'abbé s'étaient accumulés pour frapper les curieux. Devant la porte du bottier, des gamins avaient entouré le tonneau. Les boutiquiers du voisinage étaient sortis sur le pas de leur magasin et échangeaient des plaisanteries. L'ensemble de ces émotions populaires fut résumé en un court filet anonyme du Petit Impartial de Seine-et-Oise. Nul nom n'y était imprimé. Mais on ne pouvait se
  • 75.
    méprendre au sensde l'allusion, au titre de l'article: Suzanne, ni à l'âpreté déployée par le rédacteur contre «certains ecclésiastiques amis des orphelins», dont la masse, à ne s'y point tromper, pâtissait pour l'abbé Touronde. A la suite de cette mésaventure, Mme Chambannes évita désormais les villes. Du reste, les promenades lui étaient moins un plaisir qu'un passe- temps entre l'heure de lire les lettres de Gérald—quand il en arrivait —et l'heure de lui écrire. Chaque jour, après déjeuner, elle s'enfermait chez elle pour lui tracer de longues pages astucieusement rédigées de manière à stimuler son inerte tendresse et sa jalousie somnolente. Pendant ce laps, M. Raindal, remonté censément au travail, faisait la sieste à l'étage supérieur ou, par imitation, écrivait quelques mots aux siens. Et c'eût été une piquante comparaison que celle de leurs deux lettres: Zozé se noircissant à dessein, multipliant les détails équivoques, les récits d'épisodes où sa coquetterie s'ébattait parmi les admirations, les hommages masculins, les regards fervents de M. Raindal, de l'abbé, d'un passant, de tous les hommes,—et le maître, au contraire, épuisant les exemples à la blanchir des suspicions, à prouver sa candeur enfantine, sa vertu, son indubitable pureté. On ne se retrouvait que vers quatre heures; et, selon la température, on demeurait dans le jardin, ou l'on rendait visite aux gens du voisinage: à l'abbé Touronde dont M. Raindal inspecta par deux fois les petits orphelins, aux Herschstein, aux Silberschmidt. Nulle part le maître ne s'ennuyait, sauf les cas où pour une course jusqu'au village, des ordres à donner, une toilette à changer, Zozé le laissait seul avec la tante Panhias. Il n'avait d'autre consolation que de parler de sa petite élève. Il confiait à Mme Panhias ses remarques sur l'humeur variable de Zozé. Certains matins, elle paraissait en proie au spleen, sans qu'aucun motif saisissable justifiât ces accès de tristesse. A quoi donc les attribuer? Mme Panhias, qui avait, en
  • 76.
    secret, noté laconcordance de ces crises avec le retard des lettres timbrées de Deauville, répondait évasivement: —C'est sa natourre comme cela! Que voulez-vous?... —Je ne dis pas! approuvait M. Raindal... En effet!... Nature rêveuse!... Nature essentiellement mélancolique!... Et il se promettait de ne rien négliger pour distraire sa petite élève. Une après-midi même, par crainte de la contrarier, il consentit à jouer avec elle au tennis. Zozé défendait un camp, M. Raindal et la tante Panhias coalisés, l'autre camp. Plus par essoufflement que par respect de sa dignité, le maître, au bout de quelques minutes, renonça à ce jeu. Il n'y avait que médiocrement réussi. Zozé, dans un esprit d'abnégation, ne renouvela pas la tentative. Elle aussi se targuait de sollicitude. Elle plaignait le pauvre M. Raindal pour les tracas de famille dont il avait avoué quelques traits significatifs. Et quand le maître, en sa présence, ouvrait une lettre provenant de Langrune, elle ne manquait pas de s'informer si ces dames étaient moins méchantes. —Peuh!... La glace... toujours la glace!... Des questions sur ma santé... des nouvelles de la leur... des compliments pour vous... des baisers... Dix lignes à peine!... Lisez plutôt!... Elle parcourait la feuille et se remémorant les lettres de Gérald—des lettres dont le laconisme n'excédait guère celui du billet qu'elle lisait: —Oui, cher maître! soupirait-elle... Comme vous disiez, l'humanité est joliment bête!... Ces jours-là, par pitié pour ces douleurs pareilles aux siennes, elle opposait moins de rigueur aux baisers furtifs dont M. Raindal poursuivait, en toute occasion, ses mains nues ou gantées. Elle s'ingéniait à commander des plats succulents qu'elle savait devoir lui plaire. Puis, le dîner fini, dans le salon, s'il ne s'endormait pas, elle lui faisait la lecture—le journal, un ouvrage d'histoire—timidement,
  • 77.
    de son mieux,avec des intonations inexactes, des erreurs de petite fille, qui attendrissaient le maître au plus haut point. Ou, comble de délices, elle acceptait son bras pour un tour au jardin, le long de la pelouse, devant la terrasse du perron. Quand des nuages chargeaient le ciel, au couvert de l'obscurité, M. Raindal, bravement, baisait la main de la jeune femme qui le repoussait en chuchotant. Une fois, il faillit hasarder un baiser plus proche, dans la nuque, profitant du corsage à demi décolleté que portait le soir Mme Chambannes. Mais au moment d'exécuter, une telle frayeur l'empoigna, qu'il s'arrêta du coup sur place. —Vous êtes souffrant, cher maître? interrogea Zozé. —Non! fit-il se remettant en route... J'écoutais le vent dans le feuillage!... Quand il remontait vers sa chambre, après ces nocturnes équipées, il avait peine à se mettre au lit. Les réflexions sourdaient en lui par bouillonnantes cascades. Il comptait le nombre des baisers tolérés par Mme Chambannes depuis le matin: un dans le bois de Verneuil, un autre dans le parc avant le déjeuner, un autre l'après-midi, dans la chambre de Zozé où il s'était rendu sous prétexte de réclamer un livre, un cinquième, un sixième, ce soir, au-dessous de la terrasse... Additions enfantines et non sans vanité,—il en convenait modestement! Mais que pèsent les considérations métaphysiques auprès de l'écrasante réalité de nos joies? A celle-ci il n'est de mesure que les variations de notre sentiment. S'il s'exalte, ne dédaignons point ses enthousiasmes; s'il s'abaisse et fléchit, quelle philosophie le relèvera?... Ainsi méditait M. Raindal, avec un mépris graduel pour les plaisirs spéculatifs. Souvent il atteignait à l'extrême franchise, à ces examens solennels où l'âme parle à l'esprit, comme l'épouse fidèle à l'époux. Eh bien! oui, là, sous les yeux clairs de sa conscience, M. Raindal ne le niait pas. Il était un peu amoureux de sa gentille petite élève. Il éprouvait
  • 78.
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