A critique of Allan Sealy’ s “The Trotternama”
Bryan Peppin
Genuine “Anglo-Indian” writing is a product of the twentieth century,
perhaps even of the post-War years. The
corpus is still too meagre to constitute a separate genre, but with the Empire
still writing back, it is hoped that the repression and suppression of past
times will give way to works that address the real condition.
I Allan Sealy, who gained international
recognition for The Trotter-Nama (1988), uses the narrative technique of ancient Indian story-tellers
to weave a saga that encompasses the history of the unique human species that
is now identified as “Anglo-Indian”.
This mock-epic in prose is one of the earliest to trace the antecedents
of a particular “Anglo-Indian” family to its nitty-gritty beginnings—without
shame and without acrimony. It is a
story of changes of fortune and even though the novel ends on a desultory,
perhaps decadent, note (as far as the “Trotter” family is concerned), it is
open-ended about the future.
It is
well known that history is often distorted.
Indian history has suffered a similar fate, over and over again. There is no denying the fact that
“Anglo-Indian” sympathies were, up to the end of World War II at least, by and
large, jingoistically pro-British. Frank Anthony does not hesitate to accept
this bitter truth; nor does he try to justify it. Even today there are the few who still want
to go “Home” to England, if not to some other part of the English-speaking
world. But these exceptions only show
that the Community—or whatever is left of it—has become an integral part of
Indian society while continuing to retain its cultural heritage.
Matters
became worse when economic exploitation gave way to political manipulation and
the trade-mark British policy of “divide and rule” was brought to India. The most hybrid of nations—amalgamations of
Angles, Saxons, Jutes, Normans, Goths, Vikings, Bretons, Danes, Jews, Celts,
Scots, Irish, to name a few—sought, in India, from about the middle of the
nineteenth century, when the reins of power had been appropriated by them, to
down-play their sexual misdemeanours by withholding recognition to their
numerous, out-of-wedlock offspring.
Consequently, the “Anglo-Indian” was relegated to the
“lowest-of-the-low” status in a country where caste is paramount. When the “memsahib”
infiltrated the empire, the “Anglo-Indian” was pushed “beyond the pale”. Not surprisingly, the “Anglo-Indian”
community clung desperately to its language—English, however anyone would like
to describe it—its religion—Christianity—and its distinctive
culture—westernized, but tempered by the rock-solid Indian tenets of family,
community and—most of all—large-hearted tolerance. This is why the “Anglo-Indian” has a coveted
status in the country: the community has been officially recognized by the law
of the land and, by virtue of this, English is today an Indian language!
If
history-writers choose to forget, the chroniclers will more than make up for
the lapse. The Trotter-Nama: A Chronicle is dedicated
“To the Other Anglo-Indians” and in the Preface to the book I Allan Sealy
rededicates his book to “that protean people”.
Hailed as an “epic farce” (Quoted from Time Out, on the Front
Cover page) and “A Contemporary Classic” (Back Cover), the book can put the
ordinary reader off because he comes up against something he has probably never
encountered in his life. But that is the
amazing conundrum: the “Anglo-Indian” is so everything-and-nothing at the same
time that very few people understand him (if they did take the time to do so),
including himself. And that is perhaps
because the “Anglo-Indian” was both “made” and “born”.
The
serious reader, however, will be amply rewarded for his patience, for
consternation and confusion are part of the exercise; he must return, again and
again, to the family-tree and the map of San Souci—firstly, for guidance, then
for confirmation. He must tread those
labyrinthine paths and feel the essential difference of the “Trotters”, though
there really is none. Only when the
reader deciphers the repeated message that the “Trotters” (read
“Anglo-Indians”) are the same—with differences—as himself will he grasp the
real meaning of the book. If the reader
has an existential problem, he has to overcome it by a leap of faith—not the
easiest of tasks.
Not
every “Anglo-Indian” family can trace its roots to the very source, but that is
not the way of the average “Anglo-Indian”.
For him, in general, life is short and the sooner he gets on with the
business of living, the better—he will (or would certainly like to) leave the
non-essentials to others: they need something to do, surely. The case is and has to be different for the
writer of chronicles: Daniel Defoe and Jonathan Swift marked out the route,
complete with geography and genealogy, while on the Indian literary scene, the
numerous Namas provide guidance and
flourish. Sealy also acknowledges the
influence of Laurence Sterne’s zany humour, while a commentator points out that
Sealy has the “comic genius of a Hogarth” (Quoted from Sunday Observer,
in the Blurb).
To
attempt a critique of this gargantuan “chronicle”, one must first acknowledge
its genius. It is perhaps the first “Nama” to be written in English—an Indian language, by the
way—and like all great firsts, it sets very high standards. The scope of its subject-matter, the range
and sweep of its language, the seemingly endless fund of its knowledge—sound
and not-so-sound, the thrust and parry, the give and take, the exclusiveness of
its all-inclusiveness: all this and more begs that it be accepted, approved and
accredited. And what does India do? Just that!
While the rest of the world is caught off-guard and is bowled over by
the rich and variegated panorama put up for display by Sealy—which results in
its early banishment from the international scene—the more astute Indian reader
laps it up and sees to it that it remains in circulation. Sealy is the first to hail this fact (see
Preface to the New Edition); by doing so, he is acknowledging his indebtedness
to the Indian reader—a first again, since almost every other modern Indian
writer using the medium of English cares little or nothing for the “Home”
reading public. Unfortunately, like the
majority of Indian stars in the international literary firmament, Sealy talks
of “Home” but prefers to stay elsewhere.
Perhaps distance gives him a better perspective. As a “globe-trotter” (perhaps the word was
coined to describe the “Anglo-Indian”)—or “Gulabi
Trotter”, or even “Gulab-Trotter” (of the Eugenia Jambolana variety), Sealy has more justification in
having and preferring a “home” away from “Home”.
The
family-tree indicates a seven-generation, continuing saga that begins on the
longest day of that particular year, 21 June, 1799, A D and ends on the very
same day some time in the twentieth century. On that first day, at about noon, the “First
Trotter” (earlier known by the French name “Trottoire”),
falls to his watery death within hailing distance from his home. The man who had overcome everything that
crossed his path and had established a formidable habitation in the garden city
of Nakhlau finds himself defeated by one of the
simplest laws of Physics. Instead of
being interred exactly where he breathed his last, Justin Aloysius Trotter
plummets to a fluid end, encircled by the murky waters of the Ganda Nala, with its distinctive
ninety-and-nine admixtures. By
disappearing in so sudden a manner (not much unlike his arrival), Colonel
Trotter leaves—unwittingly—a host of problems that will have to be sorted out
by future generations of Trotters.
Justin
Aloysius leaves a direct descendant, of course, in a son with no given name,
who nevertheless administers—intermittently—the estate, much to the chagrin of
the new-found Trotters of San Souci. Son
of the Great Trotter, the indigo-hued Mik, accoutred
with—apparently—a permanently purple-stained penis, sires a horde of children
with the joyful cooperation of the Alexander sisters, these sirens being the
breed brought into existence through the liaison between one of the Great
Trotter’s European architects and a local woman of low caste. However, the chronicle of the age of Legend
needs to be dealt with in more detail, before the happenings of the age of
Chivalry take over.
As is
almost always the case with all patriarchs, there is no conclusive evidence
regarding the birth of the First Trotter: one version—that of the
Anti-Trotter—has the year 1729, but the narrator pins it down to 21 June, 1719,
a claim legitimized by the death of the Great Trotter on the very same day
eighty years later and the birth of Eugene Aloysius (Seventh) Trotter on the
same day many decades into the future.
The mystery is compounded when it is discovered that even the Great
Trotter’s grave-stone is never completed.
It reads simply:
JUSTIN ALOYSIUS TROTTER
WHO
(Sealy 112) and this naturally begs the question: “Who
indeed!” (Sealy 113).
Yet, long before such speculation could cross the minds of lesser
mortals, Justin Aloysius Trotter, who should, by all purports, have lived and
died like other men, had been chosen for some separate dispensation. He had acquired many other names and Sungum, his abode in Nakhlau, was
the only place where every physical object on earth was faithfully
replicated—thanks to the efforts of Sultana, his self-effacing wife and the
mother of Mik.
The
building up of the legend of the “Trotters” takes over two hundred and fifty
pages of the narrative, though this is liberally interspersed with
interpolations, notes, words (that often run into paragraphs), definitions,
recipes, theses, confessions, commentaries, reflections, journal entries,
verses, methodologies, advertisements, jottings, stories (or “Kahanis”), footnotes, preambles, resolutions, commands,
grievances, proceedings and rejoinders—the list is not all-inclusive. The reader learns that the hot-air balloon in
which the Great Trotter went up on that fateful day came down empty. The mortal remains of the Great Trotter are
not discovered, though Elise (also known as “Jarman
Begum”) lets it be known that Sungum is indeed his
mausoleum and crypt. This she does to
foil the Nawab’s plans to make Sungum
his summer retreat. The legend of the
Great Trotter is so full of juicy detail that any attempt to condense it does
no justice to the whole. However, this
is inevitable.
The
chronicler categorically rejects the account of the historian (Mr
Montagu—Anti-Trotter) regarding the Great Trotter’s birth and supplies his own
version (see Sealy 113), providing proof in the form of an unmarked grave
somewhere in France. Joseph Trottoire, a merchant of Lirey,
marries a singer and their son, Justin Aloysius (later to be lionized as the
Great Trotter), determines on a career in music. Fate has other plans for the precocious boy:
enlisting on a French ship, Justin finds himself in Quebec and thereafter in
Madras, India. Expedience results in a
change of name—from the French-sounding “Trottoire”
to the more acceptable “Trotter”—even as the colour of Justin’s uniform
changes, depending on his affiliation at the time. Acquired mastery of guns and military tactics
takes Justin to greater and greater success; this results in his appointment as
commander-in-chief of the army of the Nawab of Tirnab and the gifting of “San Souci” to him and his in
perpetuity. The building of “Sungum” is commenced and the Great Trotter looks around for
a wife to grace his court. Sultana,
daughter of one of the Nawab’s courtiers, takes the
bold step; in time, the couple is blessed with a son. The father’s prior commitments and the
mother’s ethereal character result in the boy’s association with the daughters
of one of Justin’s architects; all of them become darker shades of blue because
of their frolicking in the indigo-baths. On the death of the saintly Sultana,
Justin acquires, over a period of many years, three more “wives”, though the
final “marriage” remains un-consummated.
Farida Wilkinson “Bibi”
and Elise “Jarman Bibi”
become “Begums” or “wives”, especially after the accidental death of their
“husband”. But all this happens long
after Justin Aloysius entrusts the education of his nameless son to his Tibetan
plinth-master.
The
estates of the Great Trotter are finally settled on the prodigal Mik Trotter, later to be identified as “Gypsy
Trotter”. He returns to San Souci at the
most opportune time, putting paid to the wiles of the three “widows” of his
father, since each of them claims to be with child. Matters are better understood some months
later, when Farida gives birth to an ebony-hued child
that shows resemblance to the “Ice Manager”, Wilfred Fonseca and Elise bears a
child sired by the Steward, Yakub Khan. Rose Llewellyn “Bibi”,
just into her teens, goes about sleep-walking, until she is “blessed” with a
son—Mik’s, through one of the Alexander sisters. Rose, perhaps secretly in love with Mik (the feeling appears to be mutual), devotes all her
time to her “son” Charles Augustine Pote Trotter and
is—later—foster-mother to Charles’s son, Thomas Henry (Middle Trotter).
Since
the education of Mik is entrusted to the elusive
Tibetan, it is no wonder that teacher and taught suddenly disappear. Their journeys, along the roads of North
India, lead them to a boarding school, but Mik opts
out and the two take the road south. All
through the journey the Tibetan teaches Mik the way
to “enlightenment” and consequently a great number of government buildings are
torched all along their route. Mik is finally settled in Dr Bellow’s School in Madras,
where he is trained to be a surveyor.
The training is cut short, but Mik finds
himself gainfully employed in Persia.
His inherited knowledge of guns brings him to the notice of certain
Indian chieftains and Mik settles down to a military
career not quite comparable to that of his illustrious father. The inevitable showdown occurs when the Great
Trotter’s expertise is sought by John Company to curb the menace of certain
“mountain rats”. In the heat of battle, Mik is left for dead, one of his arms blown away, but he is
nursed back to health. Mik spends ages learning how to adjust to the new
circumstances of his life, but by the time he is ready to take on the world
again, his father falls to his death from a hot-air balloon. Mik arrives just in
time to disrupt the proceedings at San Souci and when the Great Trotter’s will
is found, the hullabaloo dies down because it proclaims Mik
the sole heir. Two weddings are quickly
arranged and Mik returns to the arms of his childhood
lovers; Charles (A-Trotter) is the result and he is claimed by Rose.
All
this is what is given to the reader in The Trotter-Nama. There is so much more to be read between the
lines. Justin Aloysius (the Great
Trotter) is the son of Joseph and Miriam Trottoire. Justin settles down in India and marries
Sultana, said to be of the Prophet’s line. Neither Christian nor Muslim, Justin
Aloysius goes on to establish a religion of his own—the “Din Havai”, or “Religion of the Winds”. While the Prophet Noah brought together—and
thereby saved for the future—a pair of every living creature, Sultana gathered
everything else, mostly inanimate, duly depositing her finds in Sungum. All this
strengthens the claim that Justin Aloysius (and through him, all Trotters) had
(and still has) a lineage that could (and still can) withstand the closest
scrutiny, though such ancestral claims are peremptorily scotched by the popular
claim that all Trotters have a “touch” of the “tar-brush”. Justin could not have foreseen the doubt and
despair that overtook later generations of Trotters, for he had the “sagarpaysans” (or “ocean of peasants”) on his side—what
more could anyone need: “As for the common people, they were awestruck: who but
a pir or saint could move rivers?” (Sealy 229) Also, Munnoo (again
possibly an avatar of Mulk Raj Anand’s
Munoo—with the extra “n” in his name to satisfy
currently-popular astrological compulsions) is determined that the Great
Trotter is nothing if not divine. Munnoo explains to Charles, Justin’s grandson, the changes
he has been witness to:
Your
grandfather (peace be His) would not recognize the place if he were to come
back,” Munnoo said.
“I can hardly keep up with it [Trotterpurwa]
myself—and I live here. Not that He came
this way often. Once
or twice to inspect the mine. And
then … the last time …to go up. (Sealy 280)
Further, Justin’s claim to an “Indian” identity is
strengthened by his adoption of local dress, something made more poignant by
the reverse process witnessed in the Nawab of Tirnab. This shift
in the sartorial preferences of Justin Aloysius allows the Great Trotter to
overcome any objections to his taking more than one “wife”, the shift to Indian
ways of dressing coinciding with the Nawab’s
preference for western attire. For all
his skill—in and out of bed—the Great Trotter is responsible for the birth of
only one child and, by a bizarre twist of fate, almost responsible for that
son’s death, years later. The prodigal Mik returns to claim his right, but wanders off, time and
again, in search of more adventure.
Mik (Gypsy Trotter) has his own fair share of fame and
fortune. Of course, Mik
is an earlier avatar of Kim—the prototype Trotter (“Anglo-Indian”, Trotter, one
and the same). Unusual skin colour also
links Mik to one of India’s favourite Gods, an
identity validated by the number of supposed “god-sightings” as Mik and his “Lama” walk the great road. Naturally, the Tibetan plinth-master is also
an avatar of Kim’s Lama; Mik’s “Lama” is not yet free
from the wheel of life and therefore teaches passive pyromania. Later, Mik is also
identifiable as James Skinner, one of the “mountain rats”. Mik goes on to live
by the sword, but he dies by the bullet, the world having passed on to the next
level of armaments. However, Mik’s death is a heroic one, the consequence of a brief but
decisive encounter with Mahavir Pandav,
a clone of the Mutiny “hero”, Mangal Pandey.
As
the proportions of the legend expand in all directions, the reader is also
given a fair bit of information about the adopted land of the Great
Trotter. Writing to his step-mother,
Justin declares that: “This country is old and feeble, being hot and wet and
hot and dry by turns. It is everything
we are not, so that any object you are like to touch upon at home might be
fairly argued to have its opposite here” (Sealy 118).
Writing
in one of his “Journals”, Justin reveals his utter defencelessness in the land
of his adoption:
But
what is this India? Is it not a thousand
shifting surfaces which enamour the newcomer and then swallow him up? It allows him the many titles of victory
while obliging him to accept a single rigid function, that of conqueror. The very divisiveness that allowed him in
enmeshes him. How is
he to grasp what cannot be held—what in fact holds him fast? (Sealy 134)
In the same “Journal entry” Justin foretells the
coming of the “Anglo-Indian”:
The
British will simply invert the proposition, substituting order for enjoyment,
but their control will partake of pleasure for all that. After the first spoliation will come restraint, regulated pleasure, a profitable deferring
of the moment—and postponement is the strictest bliss. But what child will come of the union? (Sealy 135)
The narrator allows himself what he calls a
“meditation on Indo-Greek sculpture” (Sealy 110-111) which can be read as a
not-too-fantastic speculation of the origin and establishment of the ancient “Gandhara” school of art.
The
Great Trotter’s fears regarding “Trotter” legitimacy are not unfounded. His son, Mik (Gypsy
Trotter) discovers that not even full-fledged training at the Royal Military
Academy at Woolwich qualifies him for an officer’s position in India, the
Company and the Governor-General concluding—in an order dated April 21,
1795—that persons with Indian blood could only serve as fifers, drummers and farriers. All the
discharged officers, “a Skinner, a Powell, a Hearsey,
a Gardner, a Gray” (Sealy 202) converge on a certain house in Calcutta and
unanimously decide to switch loyalties.
Numerous wars involving their former employers force the Company to
re-think, but once victory is achieved:
Anglo-Indians
were publicly warned that they must never again serve Indian princes without
the Company’s permission. They
agreed. As soon as they did, the
irregular units they commanded were disbanded.
In view, however, of the useful services rendered by the irregular corps
it was thought that one such body of horse should be maintained on a permanent
footing. (Sealy 273)
Returning to claim his inheritance, Mik is unaware that: “Primogeniture counted for nothing:
the son-and-supposed heir was a country-born and as such had no rights. An entire class of persons like Mik, sprung equally from Europeans and Indians, was
altogether destitute of law” (Sealy 253). The will is miraculously discovered
in the unused dumb-waiter and Mik gets a
reprieve. Sons and daughters are
conceived with gay abandon, the Alexander sisters still ready and willing to
satisfy Mik’s passion. Charles Augustine Pote,
the foster-child of Rose, takes pride of place, not only because of Rose, but
also because he is the first-born.
Unfortunately, Charles shows no interest in arms and ammunition; his
sole interest is art, especially painting.
His inclinations take him to Trotterpurwa, the
place where he purchases his paints.
There he chances upon Bulbul, the adopted daughter of a “bird-doctor”
and their mutual interest in one another’s anatomy leads ultimately to their
marriage.
Charles
continues with his painting while Bulbul cares for their son, Thomas Henry
(Middle Trotter). When Mik returns to San Souci after yet another of his “wars”,
he finds the indigo-trade in disarray. Not willing to accede to the “nilchis”, Mik deprives them of
their livelihood and when they retaliate by targeting the indigo-baths, Mik decides to exterminate the lot. The ensuing no-holds-barred feud results in a
tragic defeat for Mik—that too at the hands of a
non-professional force. Charles is one
of the casualties and this precipitates the derangement of Bulbul. The upbringing of Thomas Henry therefore
passes to Rose.
Frank
Anthony’s book claims that the real Charles Pote (an
“Anglo-Indian” who lived in the first half of the nineteenth century) was to art what Henry Derozio was to
poetry. The book also states that: “Pote was a free-thinker and was laid to rest without the
rites of a Christian burial. Our artist sleeps in a nameless and forgotten grave” (Anthony 63; see
also Sealy 312). In like manner,
Charles Augustine Pote Trotter has no memorial, for
the chronicle records that his mortal remains were never found. But, as The Trotter-Nama
continues, it seems that legend has been caught up by history—chronicle and factual
detail unfold in real-time, notwithstanding minor name-changes.
The branch lines of the Great Trotter
have also been busy contributing to the Trotter heritage; Farida’s
marriage to Fonseca finds fruition in the birth of three children—Henry Luis Vivian,
Luisa and Ferdinand Fonseca-Trotter.
Elise (Jarman Begum), who marries Yakub Khan, has a son, Jacob Kahn-Trotter, who, much later,
goes on to marry his “cousin” Luisa.
While Henry Luis Vivian makes a name for himself as a poet and scholar,
Jacob is the representative chosen to take the “Anglo-Indian” “Petition” to
London. The poet succeeds in
sufficiently annoying the orthodox circles in Calcutta and this culminates in
him being sacked from his teaching position.
Jacob has the privilege of witnessing the proceedings of the parliament
of England, but is too naïve to understand the prevarication and fence-sitting
for which the Houses are justifiably famous.
By the time he returns to India, the poet has been carried away by
cholera and the time is ripe for revolution.
Thomas Henry (Middle Trotter, later known as Nakhlau
Trotter) is certain that he is no ordinary “cranny”, or clerk, or writer and Mik (Next Trotter, also known as Gypsy Trotter or Tipsy
Trotter) predicts that wars are a thing of the past, since the whole world is
tired of them. Little does he realize
that a single action will plunge India into the maelstrom of Mutiny (or War of
Independence):
When
they drew near the quarter-guard, the sight of a soldier drunk in uniform drove
all thoughts of peace from Gulabi Trotter’s
head. He dug his spurs into the mare and
charged, mouthing foul oaths and waving his sabre above his head as he used to
many years before when only a cadet.
Mahavir Pandav stopped his harangue and turned to meet the attack,
snatching the sentry’s musket. (Sealy 327)
Mik
breathes his last on the day that Mahavir Pandav is executed and it is only a matter of time before
wave after wave of violence is unleashed all over India. It is time therefore for the telegraphist, Cyril Brendish
Trotter, to send off his Empire-saving message and for Thomas Henry (Middle
Trotter) to volunteer his services to warn the relieving forces of Porlock and Feverfew about the pitfalls awaiting them in Nakhlau.
A
“note” on “ghi” is enough to introduce the subject of
the “Mutiny”, but since that period of history has been so exhaustively
covered, the narrator, at the instance of the “cup-bearer”, fills in details
that pertain only to the involvement of the “Trotters” in the imbroglio. The heroics of “Nakhlau
Trotter”, outlined in his version of the Mutiny in Nakhlau,
are penned while sitting in the British Museum, with Karl Marx and Charles
Darwin in the premises (See Sealy 356).
But perhaps the greatest contribution of the Middle Trotter to posterity
is “Trotter curry”—(the complete recipe to be found in Sealy 363-64)—a concoction put together by
his wife Philippa to tide over some pressing culinary
problems. Not long after, since the main
“Trotter” profession changed from “writer” to “railwayman”, it was popularly
believed that “the trains of India ran to time on goats’ feet” (Sealy 364).
Thomas
Henry (Nakhlau Trotter) had another reason to
celebrate—his daughter, Victoria, named after the Queen (later to become
Empress). The girl grows up with so much
“modesty” that she leaves no table or chair uncovered; the proprieties are
strictly followed and prudery reaches the final frontier. But then, in the wake of a storm, a man
selling rain-gauges appears at the door.
Theobald Horatius
Montagu finds acceptance by the family when he expresses his delight to be
talking to “Nakhlau Trotter”. The attraction that Victoria feels for Mr
Montagu is something that she herself cannot understand, but the end-result is
that, while the Trotters sail to England on furlough, Victoria conceives
miraculously. Nakhlau
Trotter returns to San Souci alone, to find visible evidence of his daughter’s
changed condition. The disappearance of
his sons does not affect him much, now that he is a widower, but he is very annoyed
to find that Montagu is not a Catholic.
Four months after the marriage, the couple is blessed with a baby boy
and, at about the same time, they alter their name to Montagu-Trotter. This is co-incidental to Alina,
Thomas Henry’s cousin, deciding to “go native” and so insisting “on being
called not Aunty Alina but Alina
Aunty” (Sealy 385). An attempt is made to set up a sugar factory, but Nakhlau Trotter is wheedled into putting up an ice factory
instead. The gigantic Victoria is
content to suckle her first-born, Peter Augustine, but even she discovers
something—albeit through a lens, darkly—that assures her of a place in
posterity:
The
object was, as Victoria had described it, a brilliant, almost blinding white—it
was a plain unadorned chamberpot. It was not supported, for behind the object
was a subject, and it was this that was especially blurred. All the same, through the smudge of ghostly
waving lines there shone a face which for the first time in its life was made
visible. It was Jivan,
the sweeper-and-emptier, Budhiya’s son, a man of so
degraded a caste the very untouchables lorded it over him. He was, or had been until now, an unseeable. (Sealy 392)
It takes a Trotter (“Anglo-Indian”, same thing) to
find a species beyond the pale of humanity.
This is surely an “Anglo-Indian” “first”, even if Victoria sees the
chamber-pot before she recognizes that there is a man carrying it! Victoria’s
humanism is very simply put: “I’m telling you, it’s there, men” (Sealy 392).
The master-stroke is in the use of “men”, that colloquial expression that is
synonymous with “Anglo-Indian” speech.
Alex
Kahn-Trotter, son of Alina and Philip, makes a name
for himself in Nakhlau as a free-lance photographer,
showing up at every place where two or three were gathered. His coverage of a national convention of the
party provoked a review “by one R.K.” (Sealy 401)—the
reviewer (in see-through, fictional disguise) being none other than the Nobel
Prize winner and hard-core imperialist, Rudyard Kipling. Alex’s furious reaction only lands him in
gaol, but when he is released, Alex has his repartee ready—a poem (or verse,
same thing) that is entitled “—Chorus to ‘Arrack Room Ballad’” (Sealy 402).
Mr
Montagu then draws a perfect picture of British foreign policy by calling for a
geometry box:
When
it came he selected two instruments and held them up by turns, gesturing.
“Divide. And rule.”
. . .
It
was to seal his favoured son’s esteem that Mr Montagu
yielded to the shameful encore, fishing out still another instrument and
adding: “That is how you encompass the world.” (Sealy 404)
When Thomas Henry (Nakhlau
Trotter) finally passes on, he is immortalized in “A memorial” (Sealy
430).
The
book then outlines some of the achievements of the Trotter clan. During the years of the Great War: “A Trotter
accounted for the first zeppelin brought down in England while another brought
down the first zeppelin in France; fatal balloons, one way or the other, seemed
to run in the Trotter blood” (Sealy 431).
When Young Paul, favoured son of Mr Montagu, returns from the ravages of
the War, he finds that things have changed: “Under the leadership of a man
called Gidney-Trotter, the various Anglo-Indian associations
around the country had agreed to come together” (Sealy 432). Not one to be left
behind, Young Paul acquires a wife and proceeds on a whirlwind tour of the
country in order to garner support for his cause. The energy he exhibits stands him in good
stead and:
The
next year he was elected without serious opposition and his acceptance speeches
showed his syntax had not changed. In
the years to come his speeches were so liberally laced with I’s that a
disgruntled faction from Calcutta began to call him the I-Specialist. It was a label that caught on just when
Gandhi arrived on the scene. (Sealy 433)
Young Paul ultimately relinquishes the reins of power
to his son, Marris, but not before he tries to make
his dreams come true. He disagrees with
the Mahatma’s plan of civil disobedience as the means to oust the imperialists,
but unsure of whether his community will gain recognition in free India, he
decides: “Better to start anew, somewhere else.
It was then that he hit upon the Nicobar scheme” (Sealy 456). If the Trotters were allowed to take over the
administration of the islands, Young Paul imagines that “they could become a
seafaring nation (there were precedents), and under the right leadership they
would take their place among the nations of the world” (Sealy 457). Of course,
other Trotters had their own dreams.
In
the mean time, Philip Augustine, the first-born of Victoria and Theobald Horatius, instead of
embarking on a career in the church, gets married to Lucia in Rome and returns
to San Souci. Their son, Eustace
Montagu-Trotter (Sixth Trotter, Fore Trotter) goes on to marry Queenie, originally a lodger in Victoria’s home. The child of their union is Eugene Aloysius
Trotter (Seventh Trotter, Chosen Trotter), born on the same day (21 June) as
his illustrious ancestor and in much the same manner, for: “He enters the world
with a laugh, like Akbar, like Zoroaster, like the Great Trotter (that he is)”
(Sealy 478). The re-incarnation now an established fact, Eugene Aloysius
straddles the world, with the arch-villain Carlos ever on his tail.
Other
important things are happening in other places at other times. Mr Montagu-Trotter thinks that: “in the
hunger strike, was a useful political instrument” (Sealy 437), long before it
becomes the trusted tool of the Mahatma.
Also, if “the Gujaratis, renowned throughout
India for adding sugar to their curries, could produce a champion of salt, who
was he, Theobald Horatius
Montagu, to lag behind. He would go on a
salt march of his own” (Sealy 455). On
the other side of the planet, Mr Montagu-Trotter’s daughter Pearl, a clone of
the Hollywood star Merle Oberon, trans-created into Michael Korda’s
“Queenie”, is getting rave reviews for her
performances, while another daughter, Dulcie (the
Diva) enthrals London audiences with her voice.
When, at last, Young Paul dies, his son Marris
decides to follow his father into the murky world of politics:
He
was elected without opposition—or none that he couldn’t crush with a battery of
whereases and a ready stock of legal phrases
weighted, as per consuetude, with italics. And years later when he had consolidated his
position and was the unchallenged leader of the community, with his own
magazine and a seat in Parliament, he would speak with a kind of mystic awe of
that moment when “the mantel descended on me”. (Sealy 502-03)
With a note
describing “How the Raj is done” (Sealy 560), the chronicle concludes
with a revelation: Eugene (Seventh Trotter, Chosen Trotter) is devouring his
second tray of food, high up in the skies in an airplane, when he is granted a
vision of the future of the Trotters ( Sealy 561). The chronicle ends in truly unspectacular literary fashion, with
“DA! –boum!
(Sealy 562) being replaced by “a fathomless tintinnabulation,
-NYA –NYA –NYA” (Sealy 562). The genesis leads to an exodus and after
the Trotter chronicle runs its full course (up to the present day), it ends in
a revelation: the book suggests that the end is in the beginning, just as the
beginning is in the end. What does it really matter if the summation is “DA”,
or “OU-BOUM”, or “-NYA”: these are simply expressions of futility. The “Trotter” (read “Anglo-Indian”) story
goes on and on and on.
The naïve and postured modesty of the book does not
conceal the fact that it brims over with practical wisdom. For example, there are many hints about how
to get a new book on its way. The
librarian in the Great Trotter’s employ, Munshi Nishan Chand, knows that: “Any
ass can write a book, but only its dispenser can direct its fate: bind it,
catalogue it, translate it if need be, and above all place it in fit
hands. Writing—ha!”
(Sealy 57) The formula for a “chronicle”
is described in precise detail: “A record of the past set down with genius and
sang-froid, not to speak of afflatus and Nakhlavi brio. And if a soupcon of
coincidence (so-called) enliven the brew, what of it?” (Sealy 261) Towards the end of the chronicle, Sealy
pleads: “And can we here and now and once and for all abandon the fetishism of
the Original? All art is imitation—the
point is to make the imitation sing. And
sell” (Sealy 513). To conclude the lesson, a special—“Anglo-Indian”
(Trotter—same thing)—twist is provided: “The thing, as I’ve said before, is to
prepare the artist. The art takes
care of itself. You fatten the fingers,
they do the rest” (Sealy 513).
The
Trotter-Nama is literary enough for anyone who
has some knowledge of literature, but the writer wants to indicate a page: “In
which I introduce literary echoes” (see Sealy 484). The “I” does not reveal whether it is the
author Sealy, or the narrator, who is responsible for the introduction, but the
contextually-relevant sounds of The Waste-Land, A Passage to India and
The Trotter-Nama formalize the literary
background of the chronicle.
The
book has its own share of literary nuggets; one example describes the march of
the monsoon: “The first patter comes, of pearls, then a drumming of diamonds.
Earth’s cracks heal, wineskins mend, and lovers put tiffs away” (Sealy 225).
There is also: “A sermon—cut short” (Sealy 498-99) that analyzes the
political and social vision of Indian polity from the time that the country
became independent—an analysis that needs to be looked at with all seriousness
by the people who make plans for the world’s biggest democracy. And there are at least two instances of
deliberate malapropism. In the
explanation about how jaggery (or gur)
is made, the narrator cautions the good, sweet adept: “Best produce your own
and have done with adultery” (Sealy 389). Much later in the narrative, when
cholera is threatening to carry away a great number of Trotters and has indeed
succeeded in carrying away one more
victim, “Reuben sealed the door and said a prayer on the outside. ‘That will
have to be our moratorium,’ he said darkly.
‘Mortuary,’ said Hope” (Sealy 531).
There
are some genuine pieces of down-to-earth, practical wisdom in the book,
too. The narrative confidently asserts
that: “The number of those who happily surrendered responsibility was always
greater than those willing to take it up” (Sealy 166) and one has only to look
around to realize the veracity of the statement. A little later, the narrative dictates that:
“Men go to battle for four reasons: to escape their wives (or concubines), to
escape themselves (or the wheel of life), to earn their bread (or loaf), and as
military advisers” (Sealy 220). Though the last-mentioned reason is the one
that resurrects the Great Trotter’s military career, the other three have a
ring of truth that belies the mock-seriousness of the message. In a “kind” of aside, the book narrows down
the source of all the world’s pain: “(All the world’s sorrows stem from envy;
let us have done with it; other notable sins being covetousness, pride, anger,
and lechery)” (Sealy 221). Contemplating the possibility of tampering with
facts, one of the characters in the book concludes that: “There were some
truths you could create if you simply believed in them hard enough” (Sealy
446). Finally, the narrator, from some hidden fund of knowledge, declares that:
“the very young can smell death” (Sealy 459), a hypothesis that needs
further verification.
There
are quite a few excerpts that visibly make The Trotter-Nama
a uniquely “Anglo-Indian” book, perhaps the first of its kind and, because of
this, a trend-setter that may be hard to match.
To start at the very end of the narrative, the Nama
points to a debatable failing; it says: “Favourite Anglo pastime—smile at
you then stab you in the back” (Sealy 574). There may be many takers for
this assertion, but back-stabbing is not confined to the “Anglo-Indian”; it is
a much more common human vice than it used to be. Related to this half-truth is the feeling
that: “People said a lot: it was the Anglo-Indian vice” (Sealy 447). It is common enough for people to talk about
their achievements, especially when nobody else does; but this, too, may be a
more common human feeling than is realized.
More
to the point and one that has to be conceded—for the “Anglo-Indian” world as it
used to be—is the edifice around which all its social life was built: “In the
centre of the colony there rose, like a church without a steeple, the Railway
Institute, edged with dahlias and complete with bar and billiard room,
badminton court and bandstand” (Sealy 398).
The Institute precincts were indeed an exclusive preserve for the
“Anglo-Indians” of old, but there were genuine reasons for this. Shunned by the British clubs and derided by
his fellow-Indian for aping the mores of the West, the “Anglo-Indian” built and
maintained for himself a club that allowed him to spend an evening (or more) in
surroundings that were congenial to his temperament. Recourse to such exclusiveness was not
necessary in the age of diaspora, for the narrative
correctly identifies that: “Perth was the beginning of the end of the White
Australia Policy” (Sealy 503).
More
pertinent—because the same happens on an everyday basis in modern India—is this
excerpt:
An
advertisement had appeared in the Nuntio for a
clerk in the Nakhlau waterworks. Reuben took him [Eugene] there himself. The interviewer, Mr Mathur,
a handsome man with a slight onset of leucoderma,
said without raising his eyes: “But what is this Trotter? It is not an Indian name.” It was the standard response. Nowadays if you were a Trotter you might as
well not bother applying. (Sealy 521)
The same (but different) predicament is what crosses
Thomas Henry’s (Nakhlau Trotter’s) mind before he
goes on to make history: “After all, you have no concern with either: the one
will kill you and yours if he could, the other would chain you to a desk, an uncovenanted one at that” (Sealy 343). Being neither black nor white, the average
“Anglo-Indian”, like the Middle Trotter, tries to tread the middle path, but is
never allowed to do so because of the antagonism surrounding him. Not unjustifiable, therefore, is the comment
of the chronicler on the “well-atrocity” that took place in Nakhlau during the Mutiny: “The well, whose horrors, unlike
those of the Black Hole of Calcutta, were real, would one day disappear from
Indian history, proving that while Britons were skilled at seeing what was not
there, Indians would become adept at not seeing what was” (Sealy 338).
The
mindset has not changed in one hundred and fifty years: shunned by his paternal
forbears and stigmatized by his maternal lineage, the “Anglo-Indian” has had to
manoeuvre with skill; no wonder, then, that he has sought haven in countries
where skin colour and familial ties are not very over-riding factors. The fact that “Anglo-Indians” are thriving in
every part of the world shows that they have all the strengths of their mixed
parentage and very little of their venality.
A
critique by Maria Couto—“Half in Love: The
Trotter-Nama, An Anglo-Indian Saga”—associates
Sealy’s book with Desani’s All About
H. Hatterr and Rushdie’s Midnight’s Children. It correctly emphasizes the importance of the
early part of the book, for the opulence and abandon of the first two Trotters
prepares the reader for the decline of the generations that follow. “Legend” and “Chivalry” give way to more
mundane life-styles, but at the end of the saga, “Diaspora” is replaced by “New
Promise”, where, even though “Trotter” is not a name that will guarantee a job
and a comfortable living, it is still a name, a recognizable entity. In the future, perhaps, national identity
will become achievable. That is the hope
that the Seventh Trotter (who is the narrator of the Nama)
carries with him.
In The
Trotter-Nama, Sealy paints a more familiar
“Anglo-Indian” picture, using a very unfamiliar format. Right from the beginning, the exclusive world
of the “Anglo-Indian” is built into the narrative. The dubious establishment of the Trotter
homestead in Nakhlau includes the blending in with
the outside world, as the First Trotter acquires a number of wives and hordes
of hangers-on. The halcyon days of doing
things only when one wanted to do them are repeated in the life of Mik—Second—Trotter, but thereafter the respectability of
monogamous relationships takes root. Succeeding generations of Trotters become
more and more insular as less and less opportunity comes their way in the land
of their birth—they are found to be fit only as railway workers, teachers, nurses and machine operators. From a relatively comfortable life-style in
the past, many Trotters now live hand-to-mouth, forcing many of them to seek
greener pastures. For those who stay,
the mother-country turns into a land of opportunity, but with a name like
Trotter, the chances of making it to the top—except to the very top—are not
encouraging. The chronicle envisions a
bleak future for all Trotters, but the reality does not support this dismal
prediction. For Trotters, there may well
be rough times ahead, but that is the case for the rest of the world, too. And only a later chronicle will be able to
document what transpires then.
Works Cited
Couto, Maria. “Half in Love: The
Trotter-Nama, An
Anglo-Indian Saga.” The
Postmodern
Indian English Novel: Interrogating the 1980s and 1990s. Ed. Viney Kripal. Bombay: Allied Publishers, 1996.
Sealy, I
Allan. The Trotter-Nama. 1988. New Delhi: IndiaInk,
1999.
-------------------------------------------
Bryan Peppin has a Ph.D. in English from the
University of Madras. This is his 37th
year as a College-level teacher, including 28 years with The New College, Chennai , where he rose to be HOD in 2003. He came to Oman in 2003-2004, where he was
Director of the English Language Center, Salalah College of Technology for about 4 years, and is now
Director of the English Language Center, Shinas
College of Technology.
Bryan's interests include writing ( he had a
novel published in June 2011), close reading of literary texts and, of course,
watching TV. He can be contacted at <peppin.bryan@gmail.com>