A trip to McCluskieganj

From the bustling ‘mulk’ of the Anglo Indians, to monsoon retreat of Calcutta bhadra-manoos, a maoist sanctuary thereafter and today a hostel township, McCluskieganj's history is as deciduous as the sal forests surrounding it. Although Chotta London managed to survive these decades of turbulence and restoration, it is giving up now. On a visit to this place one can see how half of its terrain is taken over by the jungle while modern constructions are popping up on the other. It gives a feeling that soon it will be no different from other tiny dots scattered on the tribal hinterland of Jharkhand.

Noel Gordon couldn’t bury the grin underneath his wrinkles when he talks about his childhood and teenaged years. He unceasingly talks about Mr Kline’s fascination for motorcycle, Mr Mendis’ big game hunting, Mr Booth’s 150 acre plantation and Mr Cameroon’s departure and the stories of his longing to return. “The gunj, if not more developed than Ranchi, was famous for its exotic market,” tells Gordon. “People used to come to buy Chinese silk, latest gramophone records and even Champaign,” he adds.

The Gordon’s live near the half-asleep railway station whose eternal isolation makes even the shrill whistles of the passing trains sound as gratifying as a distant serenade. In the past the station was an eyewitness to an important chapter of Anglo Indian history. In the chaotic 30s when the independence movement was at its peak, trains stopped to bring the children of the Raj from all parts of the country to their only homeland. The crumbling walls and the locked doors of the bungalows dotted scattered around the station have concealed the story of the desperate attempt to create identity for the Anglo Indians, by creating an exclusive address for the community.

These people of mixed ancestry were considered half-caste ‘Chee-Chee’ by the British, while the Indians doubted their loyalty. Apart from the social acceptance, there was an ingrained economic fear as the independence would end the protected jobs. The community, traditionally had reservation in railways, police, posts, telegraph and customs and it was now supposed to compete directly with the others. At that time several pamphlets were circulated to discuss the identity crisis as well as future in India. Mr Gordon inherited some of them. One of which discusses the domiciling of the community in India dubbing them as the youngest people of the great Indian civilization. It suggests them to retain their identities and language like the other regional communities of the country. But for all that an exclusive Anglo Indian territory was necessary, which in the coming years was supposed to become their only home.   

According to Alison Blunt’s monograph, from the Royal Geographical Society’s collection on human and physical geography these pamphlets had a significant impact in creating a general conviction that self help agricultural settlements was the only way to survive and retain their identity. Across India various attempts were made to establish Anglo Indian agricultural townships agricultural. The ganj spreading over ten thousand acres was the largest of them.

Established in 1933 by the Colonization Society of India (CSI), the land was leased by Ernest Timothy McCluskie from a local zamindar of Ranchi.  Although its founder, who was a land and house agent from Calcutta visited the settlement only once and died two years after its formation, the gunj prospered. By the 1940s about 300 families inhabited it. “My father’s was from Madras and mother from Shillong,” murmurs a thoughtful Kitty Memsaab. They wanted to create England in India and hence built their houses like the colonial bungalows as it is illustrated in CSI’s monthly journals. 

“Things did not happen the way they were perceived”, explains DeRozario, the ex Anglo Indian MLA of undivided Bihar. The confusion about future panicked them and many simply locked their houses and left for Britain. For the remaining, several of whom had bought the plots by their provident fund; life was difficult once the money was finished. “The urban dwelling community was not carved for agriculture and hence their exodus was imminent” he concluded. Mr Gordan points out that the Second World War resulted in a shortage of manpower in Britain and hence for Anglo Indians migration became easier. “It continued till the 1990s. The theatre, the gunj’s last icon was closed in 72 or may be 73, but who keeps track of time when sustenance becomes questionable,” he quipped.

By the 1990s the gunj was reduced to a ghost town and the Maoists fearlessly prowled around it. Kitty Memsaab, sitting at the railway station with a basket of fruit became the symbol of the gunj’s distraught condition. “Mr DeRozario, whose wife grew up here gave a new lease of life to the place by opening a school,” says Herald Mendis who came back to his home after retiring from the nearby colliery. “It was a hapless situation then, but the school and then the opportunity to open hostels has revived the economy,” he spoke softly. Today there are over 30 hostels and a little less than 2000 students. For the remaining Anglo Indian families the good days are finally back, but this time at the cost of the gunj. With the new constructions, the town will lose its exclusivity. “Eric Oliver, who had left for Australia came back in 2010 but was disgusted by new constructions and he returned back,” recounts Mendis. “The government has done nothing to preserve our culture,” he sighs.