ANCESTRY:
Considering This Zoom Group Members are very interested in ancestry I will share the little bit I know about my ancestors.
We were a Telugu speaking Gajulu Balija Naidu Caste people living in a Tamil Majority Madras Presidency created by the British.
By Profession the men climbed coconut trees to cut the coconuts and the women sold glass bangles.
My Paternal Grand Father though illiterate was an extremely rich man who owned a Brick Kiln some where near Saidapet. He was so rich he had his Rolls Royce Jetka with two pure white horses and owned all houses in Saidapet in three or four streets. He had donated so much money to the Local Shiva Temple that even in the 60's Prayers were being performed once a year in his name.
Along with wealth came vices too. My Grand Father Muthial Naidu was an alcoholic and a womaniser. His three jealous brothers got him drunk out of his mind and conned him into signing a document giving all his wealth away to his brothers. So all my fathers cousins inherited a lot of properties and he got Zilch.
My Father had five sisters and he had the highest qualification in the entire family. He was SSLC Failed.
He could speak pretty good English and got himself a job at the army stores in Madras as Quarter Master Seargeant.
When the Japs who had occupied Andaman Islands surrendered, my Dad was a member of the British Convoy that sailed from madras to Andamans to accept the Japs surrender. The Family still holds a Japanese Bayonet that was presented to him on arrival at Port Blair.
My Father married and his wife died at Child Birth. So My aunt who was living in Rangoon arranged a second marriage with my Mother. She was very posh Convent educated topped her school but was forced into marriage. She regretted not being allowed to study further and her older sister was not as smart did her PhD in Geography and later became the Principal of Queen Marys College Madras....My Mother always felt cheated..
Every morning my Mother would wake up early and will starting singing hymns and my Dad would tell her to keep quiet.
My Dads sisters adored and hero worshiped. my Mother considering they were all mostly illiterate
My Dad was a Good Man but had a Terrible Temper that scared the shit out of all of us. My Mother was my HERO and my Beacon.
Ofcourse You have to be born first, in order to die so many times :-)
In order to escape death multiple times in life you have to be born to Start with, that's the Irony.
So this is how my life began:
My Birth was no big deal, as I am just an average bloke, but the time and place of birth needs to be mentioned as it is relevant to this incredible story of mine.
This is my family in Madras in 1944 before I was born
I was born in Port Blair, Andaman & Nicobar Islands, on 10th December 1946. My Passports say 1947. This is another story and there was no such thing as a birth certificate in Andaman during WW II period, which was a long time ago.
Port Blair is the capital of Andaman Islands in the Bay of Bengal and it took four full days by sea in a steam ship from mainland Indian Port of Madras, in the 1940's when I was born.
Port Blair, the capital was the home of the British India's Bastille, the "Cellular Jail" where they dumped hundreds Indian Freedom Fighters, if not thousands. People born in Andaman are called "Kala Pani" meaning "Black Waters" in Hindi. After the sepoy mutiny the British executed thousands of freedom fighters all over India and later thousands were shipped to Ross Island Prison in Andaman Islands built in 1872, as punishment as well as to isolate freedom fighters from the main land as it was just impossible to get across the turbulent shark ridden Ocean of Bay of Bengal to the main land by swimming or even a small boat.
The Cellular Jail has a central tower as a core with seven spokes or wings forming the heavily fortified Jail Cells. Having seen both I believe it might have been easier to escape the Alcatraz
During World War II, The Japanese moved in and occupied Andaman Islands; the only part of British India the Japanese invaded. My two grand uncles (my paternal grand father's two younger brothers) who were doing small business in Port Blair became Japanese Prisoners of War.
One of my grand uncles who had a shop selling radios, was accused of passing information to the British along with another man. One morning they dragged both to a beach nearby and made them dig holes in the sand about 5 feet deep. Then the two men were forced to get into the holes they dug and the Japanese soldiers shovelled sand back into the holes exposing just their heads. The two men were then given a chance to confess. My uncle had no clue but he refused to beg or cry. The other man started to confess and was brutally beheaded even before he finished. This was my first horror story as a Child about a man being beheaded.
Indian Prisoners of War were forced by Japanese to build Bunkers around the Island like the one below as well as dig tunnels manually through hills as air raid shelters for Japanese Soldiers. Many Indians perished under this torturous Japanese Occupation.
Andaman was the only Indian Territory occupied by Japan so when the Japanese surrendered to the allied forces on 2nd September 1945 the Allied forces fleet under a British flag reached Port Blair in October 1945.
My father who was a CQMS (Company Quarter Master Sergeant) in the British Army based in Madras was on this ship. The surrendering Japanese presented each British soldier with a Japanese bayonet as a sign of surrender. My family still treasures the Japanese Bayonet my father received.
Considering two of his uncles were still in Port Blair having survived the Japanese occupation, my dad volunteered to settle in Port Blair and he was appointed the Jailer in charge of Cellular Jail. The Japanese had released most of the political prisoners who were forced to work digging tunnels.
Since the jail was half full or half empty, what ever, the British officers decided to quickly convert four wings into the Main Hospital in Port Blair and my Dad was appointed the first Medical Superintendent of Port Blair Hospital, which was the modified Cellular Jail.
I was literally born in one of the Cellular Jail Cells on 10th of December 1946, eight months before India got its Independence from the British on 15th August 1947. ( I was born in 1946 but at that time there was no such thing as Birth Certificates and when I was admitted to a school in Madras in 1956, my aunt got my year of birth wrong so my Passport says DOB 10th Dec 1947
I was born in a British Convict Colony in 1946 and thirty years later in 1976 I ended up I'm another British Convict Colony, Sydney Australia.
There were no baby pictures of mine or for that matter even pictures of my parents until after independence in 1947 as owning cameras was the privilege of the British Officers stationed in Andaman.
Primary Education:
There was only one Hindi medium School in Andamans and was far away from home. So I did home schooling until age 7 ( Except for 6 months at Rosary Matric in Class 1 when I came to Madras on a holiday).
In 1953 a new English Medium school opened in port Blair and walking distance from my Home. I was admitted to 4th Standard. I was the youngest in my class aged 7 and the oldest was a girl named Zubeida aged 16.
I was way ahead of the class in all subjects except second language Hindi which my mother did not know. Even though I topped the class I got Zero very poor in Hindi. I was learning the alphabets and the rest of the class were learning hindi Poetry. Rajeshwar Lal got the Gen Proficiency Prize and I was given a special award by the Head Mistress Mrs. Sandal with a big explanation to the audience about Hindi being my Handicap.
That was it my Dad decided to pack me and my younger sisters off to Madras to study
Considering This Zoom Group Members are very interested in ancestry I will share the little bit I know about my ancestors.
We were a Telugu speaking Gajulu Balija Naidu Caste people living in a Tamil Majority Madras Presidency created by the British.
By Profession the men climbed coconut trees to cut the coconuts and the women sold glass bangles.
My Paternal Grand Father though illiterate was an extremely rich man who owned a Brick Kiln some where near Saidapet. He was so rich he had his Rolls Royce Jetka with two pure white horses and owned all houses in Saidapet in three or four streets. He had donated so much money to the Local Shiva Temple that even in the 60's Prayers were being performed once a year in his name.
Along with wealth came vices too. My Grand Father Muthial Naidu was an alcoholic and a womaniser. His three jealous brothers got him drunk out of his mind and conned him into signing a document giving all his wealth away to his brothers. So all my fathers cousins inherited a lot of properties and he got Zilch.
My Father had five sisters and he had the highest qualification in the entire family. He was SSLC Failed.
He could speak pretty good English and got himself a job at the army stores in Madras as Quarter Master Seargeant.
When the Japs who had occupied Andaman Islands surrendered, my Dad was a member of the British Convoy that sailed from madras to Andamans to accept the Japs surrender. The Family still holds a Japanese Bayonet that was presented to him on arrival at Port Blair.
My Father married and his wife died at Child Birth. So My aunt who was living in Rangoon arranged a second marriage with my Mother. She was very posh Convent educated topped her school but was forced into marriage. She regretted not being allowed to study further and her older sister was not as smart did her PhD in Geography and later became the Principal of Queen Marys College Madras....My Mother always felt cheated..
Every morning my Mother would wake up early and will starting singing hymns and my Dad would tell her to keep quiet.
My Dads sisters adored and hero worshiped. my Mother considering they were all mostly illiterate
My Dad was a Good Man but had a Terrible Temper that scared the shit out of all of us. My Mother was my HERO and my Beacon.
Ofcourse You have to be born first, in order to die so many times :-)
In order to escape death multiple times in life you have to be born to Start with, that's the Irony.
So this is how my life began:
My Birth was no big deal, as I am just an average bloke, but the time and place of birth needs to be mentioned as it is relevant to this incredible story of mine.
This is my family in Madras in 1944 before I was born
My Family
The one and only photo of me as a child
My one and only baby photograph taken in 1949 and family picture I have treasured for over seven decades
My one and only baby photograph taken in 1949 and family picture I have treasured for over seven decades
I was born in Port Blair, Andaman & Nicobar Islands, on 10th December 1946. My Passports say 1947. This is another story and there was no such thing as a birth certificate in Andaman during WW II period, which was a long time ago.
Port Blair is the capital of Andaman Islands in the Bay of Bengal and it took four full days by sea in a steam ship from mainland Indian Port of Madras, in the 1940's when I was born.
Port Blair, the capital was the home of the British India's Bastille, the "Cellular Jail" where they dumped hundreds Indian Freedom Fighters, if not thousands. People born in Andaman are called "Kala Pani" meaning "Black Waters" in Hindi. After the sepoy mutiny the British executed thousands of freedom fighters all over India and later thousands were shipped to Ross Island Prison in Andaman Islands built in 1872, as punishment as well as to isolate freedom fighters from the main land as it was just impossible to get across the turbulent shark ridden Ocean of Bay of Bengal to the main land by swimming or even a small boat.
Ross Island Prison built in 1872
Read all about Kala Pani here from Wiki. Kala Pani to me, referred to the people dumped in Andaman; I am surprised to read that today in 2019 the Cellular Jail is called the Kala Pani.
Port Blairs Cellular Jail built in 1906
The Cellular Jail has a central tower as a core with seven spokes or wings forming the heavily fortified Jail Cells. Having seen both I believe it might have been easier to escape the Alcatraz
Alcatraz
During World War II, The Japanese moved in and occupied Andaman Islands; the only part of British India the Japanese invaded. My two grand uncles (my paternal grand father's two younger brothers) who were doing small business in Port Blair became Japanese Prisoners of War.
One of my grand uncles who had a shop selling radios, was accused of passing information to the British along with another man. One morning they dragged both to a beach nearby and made them dig holes in the sand about 5 feet deep. Then the two men were forced to get into the holes they dug and the Japanese soldiers shovelled sand back into the holes exposing just their heads. The two men were then given a chance to confess. My uncle had no clue but he refused to beg or cry. The other man started to confess and was brutally beheaded even before he finished. This was my first horror story as a Child about a man being beheaded.
Indian Prisoners of War were forced by Japanese to build Bunkers around the Island like the one below as well as dig tunnels manually through hills as air raid shelters for Japanese Soldiers. Many Indians perished under this torturous Japanese Occupation.
Andaman was the only Indian Territory occupied by Japan so when the Japanese surrendered to the allied forces on 2nd September 1945 the Allied forces fleet under a British flag reached Port Blair in October 1945.
My father who was a CQMS (Company Quarter Master Sergeant) in the British Army based in Madras was on this ship. The surrendering Japanese presented each British soldier with a Japanese bayonet as a sign of surrender. My family still treasures the Japanese Bayonet my father received.
Considering two of his uncles were still in Port Blair having survived the Japanese occupation, my dad volunteered to settle in Port Blair and he was appointed the Jailer in charge of Cellular Jail. The Japanese had released most of the political prisoners who were forced to work digging tunnels.
Since the jail was half full or half empty, what ever, the British officers decided to quickly convert four wings into the Main Hospital in Port Blair and my Dad was appointed the first Medical Superintendent of Port Blair Hospital, which was the modified Cellular Jail.
I was literally born in one of the Cellular Jail Cells on 10th of December 1946, eight months before India got its Independence from the British on 15th August 1947. ( I was born in 1946 but at that time there was no such thing as Birth Certificates and when I was admitted to a school in Madras in 1956, my aunt got my year of birth wrong so my Passport says DOB 10th Dec 1947
I was born in a British Convict Colony in 1946 and thirty years later in 1976 I ended up I'm another British Convict Colony, Sydney Australia.
There were no baby pictures of mine or for that matter even pictures of my parents until after independence in 1947 as owning cameras was the privilege of the British Officers stationed in Andaman.
Primary Education:
There was only one Hindi medium School in Andamans and was far away from home. So I did home schooling until age 7 ( Except for 6 months at Rosary Matric in Class 1 when I came to Madras on a holiday).
In 1953 a new English Medium school opened in port Blair and walking distance from my Home. I was admitted to 4th Standard. I was the youngest in my class aged 7 and the oldest was a girl named Zubeida aged 16.
I was way ahead of the class in all subjects except second language Hindi which my mother did not know. Even though I topped the class I got Zero very poor in Hindi. I was learning the alphabets and the rest of the class were learning hindi Poetry. Rajeshwar Lal got the Gen Proficiency Prize and I was given a special award by the Head Mistress Mrs. Sandal with a big explanation to the audience about Hindi being my Handicap.
That was it my Dad decided to pack me and my younger sisters off to Madras to study
