French connection that was

A trip to Chandernagore on the eve of the 1949 referendum is unforgettable,
recounts Ramesh Seth

Chandernagore on the right bank of river Hoogly, 21 miles upstream from Calcutta, had been a French territory for over 250 years. Due to its geographical position, being deep inside British India, it did not develop much. It remained a small town but with its French charm intact. It was on the very morrow of India’s independence that the French decided to offer Chandernagore referendum on June 19, 1949 to decide whether it wanted to remanin a French enclave or join the rest of independent India. There were other French enclaves in India such as Pondicherry and Mahe. The referendum option was offered only to Chandernagore because it was not economically self sufficient.

My uncle and my old brother decided to visit Chandernagore on the referendum day to watch history in the making. No one had any doubt about the outcome. The thrill was in seeing it happen.

There were five of us in our old family car, Ford Prefect; Uncle Nandgopal, older brother Shiv Prakash, a cousin Devraj, myself and the Nepalese driver Kancha. It took about two hours to reach there.

We arrived there around 11 am. What I remember from that day, after Calcutta’s hustle and bustle, the streets of Chandernagore were surprisingly empty. Apart from a profusion of pro-Indian posters on the walls of the houses there was no indication of a referendum taking place. There were no crowds, no loudspeakers. I vividly recall the most prominent of the posters, the one which was seen everywhere, was the one which showed a small baby crying to go back to its Mother. The mother was named India and the baby, Chandernagore. We did not see even a single anti-India poster. We were outsiders having come all the way to cover the referendum, therefore seeing the empty streets absence of crowds, was an anti-climax for us. The whole town was closed due to the referendum. Not a single shop was open. It was as if we were staring at a ghost city. Having come so far, all we could do was to drive along the deserted streets of Chandernagore. Even before leaving Calcutta we had been told of the beautiful Strand, along the Chandernagore river front. Reputedly, it was the most beautiful one-km long stretch along the Ganga in its entire 2500-km long journey. Banaras might have its ghats and Hardwar its Har ki Pauri, but Strand of Chandernagore was aesthetically very pleasing. The expanse of the river lent a strange charm to the view.

After admiring the view for some time once again we got into the car for some more rounds of the town.

By noon we were sweating. Then uncle espied a signboard on a house showing it was a bar and dancing hall. Being a French territory at that time such dancing halls were part of the town’s general make up.

The driver stopped the car outside its door. Although even that one was shut, ringing of the bell brought a French lady to the door. Uncle explained our need of drinking water and told her all the shops in the bazaar were closed. The lady graciously invited us inside, into a large hall. Two or three other younger women were sitting there. A baby or two were also playing on the floor. After the hot weather outside inside the building it was like a cool retreat. We felt better.

Obviously, while the hall was used as a bar and dancing floor in the evenings, one of the wings of the house was used for living accommodation by those women. While we made ourselves comfortable around a table our hostess went inside, to the backrooms of the house, and brought a jug full of iced water. We drank it all greedily. She smiled at our thirst and brought another jug full of water. Even that was gone soon.

After quenching our thirst small talks started. Uncle asked her, more by way of teasing, "So, what do you think will be the outcome of the referendum?" With a wan smile she replied, "Everyone knows the outcome. It will be in favour of India, overwhelmingly." "And what about you; and this dancing hall?"

"I know this set up will not survive the regime change. Perhaps we will have to go back to France," she said. "Or maybe to Pondicherry, who knows?" she replied sadly.

As we were abut to leave, uncle tried to offer her money for the water. She refused firmly but with a friendly smile. Then we drove back to Calcutta. The next day the result of referendum was out. People had voted for India, more or less unanimously.

HOME