Benyamin: Yellow Lights of Death

It was on that day that the French transferred Diego’s administration to the British. Before that, the Andrapper family were the real lagoon moguls of Diego.

According to recorded history, most of the people now in Diego Garcia are migrants or their descendants. Most of the migration to Diego took place from Kerala, Tamil Nadu and Andhra Pradesh from the mainland, and Sri Lanka, Mali, Mozambique and Zanzibar.

The world-famous explorer Vasco da Gama, who set off from the West in search of black gold, first landed on the shores of Diego Garcia, mistaking it for Malabar. ‘Here we have reached, friends. the land we’ve been searching for. That shore. ’ exclaimed da Gama as he jumped into the waters and ran to the shore. But he was to be disappointed soon. In his log entry, he described Diego Garcia as deserted: a wasteland of lagoons and swampy bayous, a place that gave us hope of our destination and which killed our joy.

We have been here for ages, we are the sons of the soil, the land belongs to us; it was our ancestors who battled da Gama with stones and slings to stop him from setting his foot here, and it is because of that shame and anger he wrote that there were no inhabitants: These are the claims of the Dhivehi-speaking Chagossian tribes that echo from the mikes during every election campaign. On hearing that, my Valyapapan has a way of emerging from the top floor and walking down, dragging his feet. What follows is a string of abuses, facing the lake. ‘Sons of bitches! All your fathers had been entrapped and brought from the African wilds by my forefathers. You may not know, but I know. there were some langurs too. When taken off the boat, your fathers and langurs all looked alike. That was their condition. Now your women are on a breeding spree. For numbers to show strength in elections! Breed! Breed a lot. Who cares. But remember one thing. We made you human beings. my great-grandfathers. Get lost! Your land indeed! I’ll take anything, but never say this land is yours. ’

Then a long sigh would be addressed to us onlookers. Savages, langurs and wild peacocks. These three were brought here by our forefathers. Savages slaved in coconut plantations. Langurs made for a good tonic. Acrobatics followed peacock oil massages. And liquor with meat from Africa. Hah! Those were the days.

Valyapapan would then return to the top floor. It’s been more than three decades since he took to staying behind closed doors. He comes out only on such occasions — to curse at someone.

I don’t know how much truth there is in his words. Chagossians, the African natives, are relatively poor and a minority in Diego. It was poverty, I thought, that was the reason behind their increasing number of children. That there could be politics attached to it, I came to know later. Well, whatever the case of the Chagossians, Valyapapan could be right about the secret behind the many peacocks and langurs in the island, which do not have many wild animals otherwise: migration.

If you come to Garcia someday, it is quite a feast for the eyes. Scores of peacocks dancing in full plumage at the lakeside. Peacocks combing the palm groves like hens. Peacocks hopping on the verandas of every house. Langurs running across the streets of Pentasia. Langurs peeling off coconut husk for a meal. Langurs swimming through the lakes. Diego’s present population is five lakhs: 28 per cent Hindus, 45 per cent Roman Catholics, 8 per cent Muslims, 12 per cent Buddhists, very few Jews, the rest Protestants, Jains and African tribes. In 1981, Diego’s Senate, through an order, banned all kinds of immigration. Instead, it installed a visa system that every job-seeker from abroad has to renew once in three years.

There are records that say the first inhabitants of Diego Garcia were my forefather Hormees Avira Andrapper and family. It was the year 1713.

The King of Dreams

WHILE RETURNING HOME, I thought about Johnny’s comment about me sitting on cash. Did the people in Diego still have such a misconception about the Andrapper family? Must be. How our lives are built on the illusions of others.

It was as part of a deal with the French East India Company that Hormees Avira Andrapper migrated to Diego in the early eighteenth century. Possessed of such an advantage, my family has stayed here in all prosperity since then. There had been difficulties in the beginning, of inhabiting a deserted island. But with the help of the mighty French East India Company, who could provide enough slaves, cash and other amenities, it wouldn’t have been that tough.

They cultivated palm trees not only in the barren lands of Diego, but also in those of the nearby islands of Eagle, Three Brothers and Danger. Sugarcane was grown and swamps were cleared for paddy. They grew cotton, banana, yam, tuber, tapioca, tobacco and a multitude of vegetables. Within just two centuries, they raised Diego to a rich and prosperous nation. Now when you look at the streets and buildings and offices of Pentasia and Seleucia, it doesn’t seem as though the changes took place within such a short span of time. It wouldn’t be a surprise if some tourist wrote that this city was as old as Venice.

The French ruled Diego for two centuries. News of the freedom struggle taking place in the mainland reached us too, but did not influence us enough to make us win our freedom. The French had lost all their prowess on the waters, and the realization that they couldn’t gain much by ruling Diego had prompted them to retreat.

My family had believed till the last minute that as a reward for loyally serving them for two centuries, the French would confer the power to rule over Diego Garcia to the Andrapper family. That they would be made the kings of the land. It wasn’t just the Andrapper family — the whole island expected it.

My family had even started preparing for it soon after the rumours of a French exit started doing the rounds. There were minor fights over who should be the king, but finally, it was decided that it would be Valyapapan. So, when the shocking news came about Diego coming under British rule, the person who was affected the most was my Valyapapan, who had kept his crown ready. He was thirty-two then. He had just returned after higher studies in Paris. A perfect candidate in every way. But that dream never materialized. And he withdrew to the upper storey. Since then, Valyapapan has never come down, other than a few times to shout at someone. To understand the pain of losing a country, you just need to know one thing about Valyapapan: he still strictly follows the diet of Portugal’s last emperor, Manual II. ‘Yes, meal by meal, course by course, down to the last crumb I do follow the typical daily menu of the great Manual II. Because we two are of the same stature,’ Valyapapan says once in a while, but who knows if that made him feel good or was causing him to fall apart?

The British then created a senate merely as a formality. During the first election for the chancellor’s post, everyone had forced Valyapapan to contest. Victory was certain, it seems. But he turned it down, saying he couldn’t abide by Britain’s puppet government. He hadn’t quite wanted anything short of being king. Holding close a crown that he got from the mainland, he has continued to be idle for the past thirty years or so. Can a fallen dream shatter a man so badly, however big the dream?

A Gift

NEXT MORNING, i looked for reports of Senthil’s death in the Diego Daily . To my surprise, nowhere in the paper was there any news of it. The Daily was the only newspaper in Diego. Didn’t it owe the people information about what was happening in the country? Was it because there were no competitors that the paper could get away with its irresponsible policy? I called up their office and shouted at them. But it was as though such an incident had never taken place in Diego Garcia. That was their response. I was ridiculed, asked if I was drunk, and that I should endure my hangover and not take it out on journalists the next morning.