Archives for category: Travels

By Debojyoti Das

Diamond Harbour was developed by the British East India Company and later by the Empire for its imperial shipping and trade from Kolkata. The region is part of the active Sundarban delta at the mouth of the Hoogly River. Like Diamond the British also developed Caning port in the Sundarbans over the Matla river. Lord Canning’s dream to develop Canning as a port faded as the port suffered from siltation and rise in riverbed in the years after the plan was approved. The last railhead in Canning remains a strong reminder of colonial railway infrastructure at the heart of the Sundarbans, developed to link the hinterland with Kolkata and beyond.

The failure of the Canning Port is testament to the active nature of the Sundarban delta, where silt deposition and erosion constantly changes the landscape with the constant emergence of new islands and the destruction of existing ones.

Diamond Harbour, unlike Canning, is a municipality, initially developed by the British as a fishing and trading port. Today the lighthouse and fort built by the imperial government lie in ruins due to the caving in of the river. The Jetty Ghats are constantly being shifted due to the siltation of the river Hooghly. The phenomenon shapes the whole region. Kolkata’s port has now moved to Haldia, and with siltation in that area there are plans to shift the port further seaward. The construction of the Farrakhan barrage over the Ganges in West Bengal has not helped ships to enter the Kolkata port with progressive siltation of the Hooghly riverbed. This presents a good reminder as how dynamic the active delta of the Bay of Bengal plays its role in shaping river transport.

The Sundarbans are constantly evolving as a littoral landscape with the formation of islands, creeks and active siltation and deposition at riverbanks and islands. The shattered lighthouse and the ruins of the fort present evidence of the changing nature of water bodies and the landmass at the mouth of the world’s largest delta.

By Sunil Amrith

I have been working through the fascinating archives of the Irrawaddy Flotilla Company at the National Maritime Museum in Greenwich. Among the company reports and other miscellaneous items are many details about the company—which tells us something about history of steam power in South Asia, and about the Irrawaddy River itself.

The Company’s grand headquarters now house the Myanmar Port Authority. The building still dominates Yangon’s skyline; though it is unclear how long that will remain the case, given the construction boom that appears to be underway in the city.

The Irrawaddy Flotilla Company was formed in 1865, owned by the brothers Henderson, originally from the village of Pittenween in Fifeshire, Scotland. The family’s fortunes rose from the initial misfortune of George Henderson, shipwrecked while commanding a sailing vessel “trading to the near east.” He survived the ordeal, and installed himself in Italy, where he flourished in the marble trade to Britain—the Glasgow end of the business was handled by his three brothers. By the 1850s, the Hendersons had abandoned marble and moved into long-distance shipping: they owned a small fleet that sailed between Scotland, New York and Quebec; at the turn of the 1860s, they were at the “forefront” of the “emigrant trade” to New Zealand. On the return journey from New Zealand, the Hendersons’ vessels began to call at Rangoon, where they took on cargoes of rice and teak. Before long, the Burma rice trade proved so profitable that they abandoned the antipodean leg of the voyage altogether; around the same time, they purchased a small fleet of steam-powered river craft to profit from the Irrawaddy’s flourishing trade.

A promotional booklet of 1872 assured potential investors that “there is no trade to the east more capable of … continuous expansion than that of Burmah.” The Irrawaddy had “its banks studded with towns and villages, crowded with an active, industrious population to whom this river is the great highway.” Until the advent of steam, “the whole traffic on the river was conducted by native boats”—up to twenty-five thousand of them. Now steam power, “by its speed, regularity, and safety, is gradually superseding native craft”; all that was needed was a “sufficient supply of plant to monopolise, in great measure, the traffic.” For two decades, the Irrawaddy Flotilla Company imported its coal directly from Britain; from the 1890s, supplies began to arrive from the coal-fields of Bengal.

* Full references will appear in chapter 4 of my forthcoming book, Crossing the Bay of Bengal: The Furies of Nature and the Fortunes of Migrants (Harvard University Press, 2013)

By Debojyoti Das

My preliminary field visit to the Sundarbans in May 2012 was challenged by the roasting heat and by tidal waves. I was warned of the turbulent waters by Mr. Ajit Sarkar, director of Help Tourism who had visited the islands recently. On my trip, he introduced me to Bali Island, adopted by Help Tourism as a model village. Read the rest of this entry »

By Sunil Amrith

Rachel Carson’s 1955 book, The Edge of the Sea, is one of the most poetic works of science writing that I know. Some of her most evocative descriptions were reserved for the mangrove forests of the U.S. Atlantic coast. “Mangroves are among the far migrants of the plant kingdom, forever sending their young stages off to establish pioneer colonies” she wrote. Mangroves excelled in “creating land where once there was sea.”

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By Sunil Amrith

A recent trip down the Tamil Nadu coast took me further inland, to the heart of Chettinad. The Chettiars of this region once had a commercial empire that stretched from their arid corner of the Tamil plains to Rangoon, Penang, Singapore and Saigon.

In the early-twentieth century, Chettiar agents could be found in every small village in Burma, and they were the main bankers to Burmese rice farmers. Young men from this tight-knit community moved constantly back and forth across the Bay of Bengal. The usual pattern was three years in Burma, and then a period of “home leave.” Read the rest of this entry »