scattered in the river Ganges. The Roys continued to prosper and seek prosperity. Indians were industrious, and certain professions tended to run in families. The Luckhoo family specialised in law; the Jaikaran family in medicine; and the Roys in business. They owned four dry-goods stores, two pharmacies, a cinema, two provisions stores, an electrical appliances company, a furniture store, three hardware stores, a construction company and the Jus-ee cool drinks company. Roys were emigrating to England, Canada, the USA. Some had settled in Trinidad, some in Surinam. But nobody, as far as Saroj knew, had ever returned to India. You didn't return to India. You left India.
B ACK IN C ALCUTTA , Deodat Roy, Baladas's first grandson, grew up and won a scholarship to study law in England where he graduated with honours and practised as a barrister-at-law for a few years in London. But Deodat was an Indian through and through, and life in racist England, a member of the despised immigrant Indian society, did not appeal to him. England was too secular, too materialistic, too cold. Even with his education he was not treated with due respect. News of his dissatisfaction and plans to return home circulated through the family grapevine and reached Georgetown. In 1929 he received a joint letter from his three great-uncles, now old men and heads of the Georgetown Roy clan.
It was one of the most important items in the family archives, heralding as it did the New Age of Roy tradition. Balwant Uncle liked to read it aloud at family functions: ‘This is a bright and shining colony, much better than India,’ the great-uncles had written, ‘and there's a crying need for well-trained Indian lawyers. Do not return to Calcutta, come here and settle in British Guiana. In India, even if you are successful, you will be at best a small fish in a big pond; here you can be a big fish in a small pond.’ (This was Balwant Uncle's favourite saying.) ‘You would not believe the leaps and bounds with which we Indians are progressing! We came to this colony as poor coolies owning nothing and less than nothing, yet through God's grace and our own diligence and thrift we Roys are all well-to-do and highly respected pillars of society, and we are by no means the exception! Now there are over 300,000 Indians here; we make up over forty per cent of the population! Diwali and Holi are national holidays, as well as Eid-al Mubarak for the Muslims. This is indeed Little India and opportunity is knocking on our doors! Kindly come and put your shoulder to the grindstone to help build the colony! We, your loving great-uncles, will accord you a hearty welcome. Only one thing: before you come, get married, for ladies are in short supply here. It would be preferable if you find a wife with several young sisters or female cousins to accompany her, for we know of many highly eligible Indian boys in dire need of a wife, and we can make excellent connections through marriage. Dowry and caste not relevant.’
This last sentence alarmed Deodat exceedingly. He promptly married his first wife Sundari, daughter of Brahmin immigrants, in London, and brought her with two younger sisters to British Guiana. The sisters were immediately married into prominent Georgetown families so that the BG branch of the Roy clan grew further in consequence and connections.
Sundari gave birth to three boys in quick succession, Natarajeshwar, Nathuram, and Narendra, but Narendra was barely eleven years of age when Sundari tumbled down the tower staircase in Deodat's Waterloo Street mansion and broke her neck. The three boys were immediately boarded out into various other Roy families, so all quickly recovered from the tragedy, and Deodat set about finding a new wife. But there were problems.
Deodat, an orthodox Brahmin, refused to take a wife born and bred in BG. In such a woman traditions were diluted, culture was dying, he claimed. He was appalled at the gradual disintegration of Hindu
B ACK IN C ALCUTTA , Deodat Roy, Baladas's first grandson, grew up and won a scholarship to study law in England where he graduated with honours and practised as a barrister-at-law for a few years in London. But Deodat was an Indian through and through, and life in racist England, a member of the despised immigrant Indian society, did not appeal to him. England was too secular, too materialistic, too cold. Even with his education he was not treated with due respect. News of his dissatisfaction and plans to return home circulated through the family grapevine and reached Georgetown. In 1929 he received a joint letter from his three great-uncles, now old men and heads of the Georgetown Roy clan.
It was one of the most important items in the family archives, heralding as it did the New Age of Roy tradition. Balwant Uncle liked to read it aloud at family functions: ‘This is a bright and shining colony, much better than India,’ the great-uncles had written, ‘and there's a crying need for well-trained Indian lawyers. Do not return to Calcutta, come here and settle in British Guiana. In India, even if you are successful, you will be at best a small fish in a big pond; here you can be a big fish in a small pond.’ (This was Balwant Uncle's favourite saying.) ‘You would not believe the leaps and bounds with which we Indians are progressing! We came to this colony as poor coolies owning nothing and less than nothing, yet through God's grace and our own diligence and thrift we Roys are all well-to-do and highly respected pillars of society, and we are by no means the exception! Now there are over 300,000 Indians here; we make up over forty per cent of the population! Diwali and Holi are national holidays, as well as Eid-al Mubarak for the Muslims. This is indeed Little India and opportunity is knocking on our doors! Kindly come and put your shoulder to the grindstone to help build the colony! We, your loving great-uncles, will accord you a hearty welcome. Only one thing: before you come, get married, for ladies are in short supply here. It would be preferable if you find a wife with several young sisters or female cousins to accompany her, for we know of many highly eligible Indian boys in dire need of a wife, and we can make excellent connections through marriage. Dowry and caste not relevant.’
This last sentence alarmed Deodat exceedingly. He promptly married his first wife Sundari, daughter of Brahmin immigrants, in London, and brought her with two younger sisters to British Guiana. The sisters were immediately married into prominent Georgetown families so that the BG branch of the Roy clan grew further in consequence and connections.
Sundari gave birth to three boys in quick succession, Natarajeshwar, Nathuram, and Narendra, but Narendra was barely eleven years of age when Sundari tumbled down the tower staircase in Deodat's Waterloo Street mansion and broke her neck. The three boys were immediately boarded out into various other Roy families, so all quickly recovered from the tragedy, and Deodat set about finding a new wife. But there were problems.
Deodat, an orthodox Brahmin, refused to take a wife born and bred in BG. In such a woman traditions were diluted, culture was dying, he claimed. He was appalled at the gradual disintegration of Hindu
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