Fading Twilight: An Afternoon At Delhi's Grant Govan Old Age Home For Anglo Indians

The dark hazel eyes of Valerie Beecham shine bright with yearning every time she speaks of dancing. Foxtrot, Jive, Waltz, Tango바카라�she counts off all the dances she had once known by heart on a wrinkled forefinger. Beecham grew up in the former 바카라�White Town바카라� area of Allahabad바카라�she calls it Ala-bad and does not know that it바카라�s called Prayagraj now바카라�at a time when balls and parties were common and organised as grand affairs by the Anglo-Indian community and civil bodies, especially during Christmas and Easter.

바카라�There would be live bands with saxophones, and girls dressed in gowns. There would be drinking and merry making. We made lots of friends like that. It was a very European tradition,바카라� Beecham recalls with a smile. It was in one such dance that she met her husband in her 20s. Now, at the age of 82, Beecham is one of the six current residents of the Grant Govan Homes, a refuge for a handful of elderly Anglo-Indians in New Delhi. The octogenarian does not know if they hold balls in Allahabad anymore and even if they did, it would not matter to her. She does not dance much now and her dancing partner, her husband, departed long ago. Memory and youth have both proved to be fleeting.

Built in 1940, Grant Homes seems to hide in plain sight, much like the Anglo-Indians of Delhi. A withered sandstone marker inside its fenced courtyard informs that the establishment was built by 바카라�friends바카라� of the businessman and philanthropist RE Grant Govan, who among other things, was the first President of the Board of Control for Cricket in India (BCCI). Located bet­ween the Red Fort and Nigambodh Ghat, the home is a living reminder of the Raj in the heart of India바카라�s capital.

바카라�This place has been home to me for 15 years. Hazel Cross, our oldest resident, has lived here for 30 years,바카라� says Beecham, pointing at Cross who is now too old to speak. The fading gold of her green eyes remains youthful and agile as she winks at the cameras we had brought along with us to document what almost felt like a relic from another time. Both Beecham and Cross had Irish mothers.

Maintained by the All India Anglo-Indian Association, New Delhi, the Grant Homes consist of seven cottages painted red, much like the ones in the Anglo-Indian colonies in Allahabad, tucked neatly behind the shade of the trees that grow in its garden. To get in, residents have to apply. They also have to pass a 바카라�test바카라� and clear an interview. They have to be 60 years and above and need to prove that they really are Anglo-Indian and in need of assistance.

The other residents of the home include Violet Pingault, 77, with a bobbed head of white hair, who is secretly proud of her altar. 바카라�They all come to see my altar. It바카라�s the most decorated one here,바카라� she tells us as she shows off her collection of rosaries. Pingault is from Calcutta as are Jennifer Cooke and the only couple in the home, Hazel and Michael Sims.  Among Anglo-Indians, it is said that those from Calcutta looked down upon other 바카라�up-country바카라� Anglos-Indians. 바카라�Calcutta was the capital of the Empire for a long time so a lot of us acc­umulated there, I suppose. But now, there is a lot of mig­ration since there are no jobs there,바카라� says Hazel Sims. She lived in Kidderpore before coming to Delhi in the 70s. 

These distinctions barely make a difference today when life is mostly about survival. 바카라�Delhi has one of the richest Anglo-Indian communities in the country. Many have migrated here from Calcutta and other places in search of a better life,바카라� says Troy Hodges, the vice president of the All India Anglo Indian Association, who looks after the maintenance of the homes.

Left in the twilight zone following the exit of the British troops, the Anglo-Indian population dwindled over the years following the Independence of India. The colonial hangover lasted for a few decades but by the late 50s and 60s, many were unable to keep up with the changing ethos and economic instability of the nation and migrated in droves to commonwealth nations like Canada, Australia, and of course, Britain, the 바카라�fatherland바카라�, in search of a better life, better income, but also in search of a home. 

There were attempts to forge a 바카라�homeland바카라� in India too바카라�in the Andaman and Nicobar islands or in the reclusive hills of McCluskieganj. The elusive 바카라�homeland바카라� has become a pipe dream today for the residents of the Grant Govan Homes who think 바카라�home바카라� is here.

바카라�We live here now. We don바카라�t want a state,바카라� Cooke, 72, who grew up in a colonial-era mansion in Dalhousie, Calcutta, states. 바카라�We already had a 바카라�Little Britain바카라� in Calcutta for years. Look what happened? Everyone left,바카라� she says. When she was young, she remembers that the Anglo-Indians maintained their distance from the Indians.

바카라�Our Anglo identity is in our names. We don바카라�t steal our names from gravestones. These are our real names,바카라� she adds. Her grandfather had been a white man with blue eyes. She says her sister바카라�s husband used to look like the Prince of Wales.  But the residents do not wish to go to Britain anymore. 바카라�What will we do there? We will never be considered English because we are not white. It바카라�s better here,바카라� says Michael Sims, 77, who was born in Fort William Kolkata to an Anglo-Indian man working in the Indian Army the year before Independence.

For third and fourth-generation Anglo Indians today, the 바카라�Indian바카라� precedes the 바카라�Anglo바카라�. They ins­ist that they are 바카라�Indian바카라� since they were born here and have lived their whole lives here.  The ins­istence on the assertion of 바카라�Indianness바카라� reflects the sense of lingering unease and racial politics that the community has engendered in response to years of othering by both India and Britain.

Betrayed by the 바카라�fatherland바카라� which left them behind in its former colony, these children of the twilight zone were shunned in India as 바카라�brown sahibs바카라�, denigrated as drunks, insulted as 바카라�kutcha bacchas바카라� (weak children). During the Freedom Movement, many nationalists considered Anglo- Indians a threat, their fears allayed by the fact that Anglo- Indians shared much of British cultural traits including dress, food, language and following religion.  Even after independence, the Anglo-Indian anxiety of racial mixing can be observed in the mass migration, the community바카라�s unwillingness to marry outside of their own, and the pride they take in their 바카라�British surnames바카라�. That is slowly changing too. Pingault바카라�s son, for instance, has married a Punjabi girl. She says is okay with it, as long as they raise their child as an Anglo.

The residents show photos of the previous occupants of the Grant Homes who lived and died in these very cottages, this little 바카라�homeland바카라�. 바카라�Philomena Berkeley, Kerry Ann Hatch, Phyllis. All neighbours, friends. All gone. In 50 more years, the word Anglo-Indian will stop existing,바카라� Hazel Sims rues.

Were the residents happy living out their last days here in this forgotten corner? They shrug, they are as happy as they could be. There was laughter and familiarity in their chit-chats and warmth in their embraces. There are gifts on Christmas and the occasional outing to Gidneys바카라� Club in Connaught Place, one of the only Anglo-Indian clubs left in Delhi. There is chicken that Shireen, the chatty cook who comes daily, cooks 바카라�Anglo-style바카라�. There is the occasional Jim Reeves song someone hums from memory. And there is the company of those who watched the sun finally set on the Raj.

(This appeared in the print edition as "Fading Twilight")