Women in the Indian diaspora in Oman

Women in the Indian diaspora in Oman

Research into the historical Indian merchant families often provides a plethora of information and archival data, usually in the form of photographs and accounts, much of which deals with life in the public domain – trading records, logbooks of ships and custom stamps and narratives of bombings of British ships in the Bay of Sidab. Unsurprisingly, all of these clearly exclude the role of women who were often mentioned as an integral part of the community, always present in the background but rarely given a role, or even a voice in the narrative. This is an important gap in the research on the Indian families living in Oman for the last 300 years or more. Conversing with older women in the families reveals a fascinating narrative of travel, of memories and home, of attempts at creating homes away from home and an unquestionable determination to remain in the margins of the narrative, supporting efforts at economic development and retaining the symbolic representations of home66. Some of these individual stories were narrated by family members in informal conversations. Born in 1914 in Lathi, Gujarat, Shanta Naraindas Toprani came to Muscat in 1933 following her marriage to Naraindas. With very little Gujarati and basic maths, Shantadevi soon learnt about the family business and, by 1940, she was already looking over all the book keeping and documented communications of N.P.Toprani & Co. From 1961 onwards, Shantadevi was made the legal proprietor and, following the death of Naraindas in 1964, she become the sole owner of all the assets left by Naraindas. She was widely known by everybody in the community, often feeding traditional Gujarati meals to guests who included Omani and Indian businessmen. In 2008, she was the oldest woman to be granted Omani citizenship as she was 93 years. She died in 2018.

Hemlataben, too, came to Muscat upon her marriage to one of the sons of Keshavji Purshottam. She came in ‘The Dwarka’, one of the two ships, which traversed the Arabian coast between Mandvi and Muscat – the other being ‘The Damra’. In 1971, she came to live near the Muttrah Bay, close to the trading posts and the sea. The larger Dhanji Morarji family of more than 30 members lived and cooked together near the royal clinic, opposite the royal palace in Muscat. The male servants would bring water from the well in Muttrah and Ruwi. Women were not allowed to venture outside, except in the evenings when they would go out with their husbands and other family members. Outings consisted of picnics at the Sal Mala (the present PDO road), which was the only well-kept garden in the city at that time. Hemlataben

66 For more details of home making strategies and gendering the women of the Indian diaspora in Oman, see S. R. Mehta, (2012). ‘Creating identities: Oral narratives of

Gujarati women in Oman’.

began to teach, along with some male teachers, and remembers a programe she coordinated in 1973 for the Indian consulate that was attended by the Minister for Education. She went on to establish, and is presently convenor of the Kutchi wing of the Indian Social Club and often writes for Kutchi magazines and newspapers in Gujarat. Conversations with other female members of the Kutchi families offer vignettes of life in the small suburban walled city of Muscat around the period of the Second World War. The narratives paint a revealing picture of Gujarati family life at a time when the social hierarchies were different and life was tough. The slices of anecdotes revolve around the scarcity of water, the weekly trips to Seeb, about 30 kms away, to wash one's laundry as well as make a picnic out of the day, on the only Landover 4 wheel in Muscat at that time and the community lifestyle, centring around a daily routine of washing, cooking, cleaning and mending. Most women enjoyed narrating events about waiting for the monthly steamer that would bring letters, the panchang (Indian calendar) and even parcels of sweets and savoury made by mothers back home. Life, it is clear, was not easy, as they were expected to cook good and tasteful dishes reminiscent of home, without the help of

Javerbai and Madhuri Purecha buying vegetables from an Omani vendor vising Bait Ratansi in Muttrah, 1967 ©Vimal Purecha

correct ingredients and, at times, even the recipes. A common memory is of the way in which women learnt to wash some pebbles, taken from the beach close to their homes, dip them into gram flour (besan) and fry in order to make the typical Gujarati ‘pakodas’; or of using the locally available date palm stems, peeled thoroughly and fried as a side dish to compensate for lack of fresh vegetables in times of scarcity, or if the boats had not arrived. Life, of course, was communal – partly because the 200 odd families all lived in the same area in the gated community of Muttrah and also because life revolved around the temple well – both sources of succor, religious as well as social. The connecting terraces are described as a source of comfort – one in which women would be allowed to sleep outside, enjoying the sea breeze, protected as they were, by the men and children of the community. The terrace was also seen as a site for other community activities, particularly seasonal pastimes as pickle and papad making, during which songs in praise of Krishna would act as continuing rhythm to a domestic act. Women had very little time for leisure activities, and it seems as if there were few opportunities for them to indulge in them. While the men could afford the luxury of visiting the British club, women were most often bound by their own traditional as well as local customs. All the women said that they never stepped outside the complex of their houses, except when the shops were closed and they were taken out by their husbands. After the 1960s, some of the women who came upon marriage were educated and so were asked to help in the Indian consulate. At that time, they could not go out but work was brought home to them. When the Gujarati-medium community school of about 60 students needed teachers, some women began to teach there. Life, in effect, revolved around creating versions of home, the women being primarily seen as custodians of customs and rituals within the family network but not without power and authority.