Parsis and Hindutva's Ethnic Nationalism in India

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this nonsense of caste and seafarers.

How do you think most of SE Asia became a Hindu colony?

Keralites and shipbuilding. Sea trade with Arabia for millennia.

Your sob stories of China are a hoot. By the time the Brits entered, the Chinese were already long since opium addicts.

Addicted to Indian opium by the Malwa land route.

By the Sindhis.

What British opium did extra was make their fighting arm of the Chings a useless doped out lot. The society were already druggies long before.

So if you want to shed a year, or want war crime inquisitions, start with the Hindus first. You'll get a nice reply.

Your dog is your Hindu pride.

How dare the refugees do better and lord it on our soil.

This is the barely concealed thorn many Hindus carry today lodged firmly in their butt cheeks.

I've seen in in big business and the corporate space, in clubs and society gatherings, too often to mistake it where and when I see it.

Cheers, Doc

Here is to clearing up your confusion.

The Sindhi opium trade you wrongly refer to is actually the Dutch Opium trade that I was speaking about.

The first Monopoly over Opium Trade was NOT by the East India company. It was actually by the MUGHAL Empire.

Opium trade within India existed from the 15th century. Mostly to Rulers who got supplies of "Turkish opium" and "Malwa opium". Malwa opium being processed and supplied from Ujjain.

However during the second half of the 16th century, opium was brought under a state monopoly by the Mughals with the state strictly controlling Opium production and using it for consumption and Trading with china.

As the mughal empire declined, the state lost its hold and control and sale of opium was appropriated by a group of merchants in Patna (Bihar).

In 1757, the monopoly of opium cultivation passed into the hands of the East India Company which had revenue collection in Bengal and Bihar.

However before that the Dutch East India company used to buy Opium from Ujjain and rout it via Surat to Indonesia and china.

But after the EIC got control over the Maratha Empire, they blocked this trade route to the Dutch so the Dutch were forced to route the Malwa Opium via Rajasthan into Sindh and use Sindh port to ship the opium out.

It was the muslim Baloch sultan of Talpur who controlled the sale of Opium to the Dutch, just like the Mughals before him.

After British took Sindh in 1843, this naturally ended since it was more profitable to ship opium via Kolkata.


As you can see it has very little to do with my "hindu pride". Just Factual history.
 
Fascinated by Sindhis. A good looking people too.

The movie Rustam touches shallowly on the dynamics between this community (representing upwardly mobile affluent westernised/globalized Hindus) and the Parsis.

I found this above account fascinating as it puts into perspective the oft lamented right wing narrative that Hindus could not get ahead under the British because of the foreign white toadies, the noble (Brit characterization) Parsis.

Might be of interest to some here.

@Rivino @r3alist @Joe Shearer @Musings @Waz @Kingfisher @Guru Dutt

Cheers, Doc

Here is to clearing up your confusion.

The Sindhi opium trade you wrongly refer to is actually the Dutch Opium trade that I was speaking about.

The first Monopoly over Opium Trade was NOT by the East India company. It was actually by the MUGHAL Empire.

Opium trade within India existed from the 15th century. Mostly to Rulers who got supplies of "Turkish opium" and "Malwa opium". Malwa opium being processed and supplied from Ujjain.

However during the second half of the 16th century, opium was brought under a state monopoly by the Mughals with the state strictly controlling Opium production and using it for consumption and Trading with china.

As the mughal empire declined, the state lost its hold and control and sale of opium was appropriated by a group of merchants in Patna (Bihar).

In 1757, the monopoly of opium cultivation passed into the hands of the East India Company which had revenue collection in Bengal and Bihar.

However before that the Dutch East India company used to buy Opium from Ujjain and rout it via Surat to Indonesia and china.

But after the EIC got control over the Maratha Empire, they blocked this trade route to the Dutch so the Dutch were forced to route the Malwa Opium via Rajasthan into Sindh and use Sindh port to ship the opium out.

It was the muslim Baloch sultan of Talpur who controlled the sale of Opium to the Dutch, just like the Mughals before him.

After British took Sindh in 1843, this naturally ended since it was more profitable to ship opium via Kolkata.


As you can see it has very little to do with my "hindu pride". Just Factual history.

The Global Career of Indian Opium and Local Destinies

Amar Farooqui1

1Department of History, University of Delhi, [email protected]

ABSTRACT:

As is well known, opium was a major colonial commodity. It was linked to trade in several other commodities of the modern era such as tea, sugar and cotton and through these to Atlantic the slave trade. The movement of these commodities across continents shaped capitalism in very specific ways. In the case of India, for instance, earnings from the several components of the opium enterprise played an important role in the growth of industrial capitalism. This paper looks at the historical circumstances in which various localities and regions of the Indian subcontinent, especially western India, and the Indian Ocean became part of the opium enterprise during the early nineteenth century. It attempts to understand the manner in which local destinies were linked to the global, reinforcing and/or resisting British imperial interests. For this purpose I have chosen the port of Daman, on the West Coast of India as a representative example. Daman (Damaõ) was a Portuguese colony. The paper pays close attention to political processes at the local level so as to make sense of global patterns of trade in a commodity that was vital for sustaining the British Empire.

Keywords: Opium; Malwa; Daman; Smuggling; Estado da Índia; Macau; Bombay; Tea; East India Company; colonial commodities

Colonial commodities created conditions that can be better understood in a global context and by scrutinizing the interconnections between developments in different parts of the world. As is well known, opium was a major colonial commodity. It was linked to trade in several other commodities of the modern era such as tea, sugar, cotton, and slaves. The movement of these commodities across continents shaped capitalism in very specific ways. In the case of India, for instance, earnings from the several components of the opium enterprise played a vital role in the growth of industrial capitalism in western India.

This paper looks at the historical circumstances in which the western and central regions of the Indian subcontinent became part of the global opium enterprise during the early nineteenth century. It attempts to understand the manner in which local destinies were linked to the global, reinforcing and/or resisting British imperial interests. Opium emerged as the leading commodity linking the Indian subcontinent with the commercial worlds of the Indian Ocean, the East, and Southeast Asia.

One would like to underline that close attention needs to be paid to processes at the local level so as to make sense of global patterns of trade in key colonial commodities. In the case of the sea-borne trade in Indian opium (as distinct from the internal trade in the commodity), it is necessary to examine the specific historical circumstances in which each of the several segments of the trade came to be part of a vast network exchanges: from producing areas of the interior located in the princely states ('native states' in British colonial terminology) of western and central India, to Portuguese colonial possessions on the West Coast (Konkan and Gujarat), and thence across the Indian Ocean to Macau and Canton. In this context the position of Indo-Portuguese business groups, strategical ly located along the West Coast, was historically significant. Unfortunately, this is a problem that has not received much attention. Indo-Portuguese business groups were key players in developing a network of trade that encompassed western and central India, Bombay (now Mumbai), Daman, Diu, Goa, Sind Macau and Canton. The massive expansion of opium exports from Bengal to China in the closing decades of the eighteenth century drew Indo-Portuguese and Indian traders to the opium produce of princely states located in western and central India1. The state of Gwalior, located in central India, ruled by the Sindia dynasty, emerged as the largest supplier of the drug to private exporters operating on the West Coast. The long association of Indo-Portuguese traders with the sea-borne commerce of the West Coast, combined with the links they had with the Portuguese at Macau who aided in smuggling the drug into China, gave them a distinct advantage.

The traders of the Portuguese settlements in Konkan and Gujarat thus opened up new opportunities for the economies of the landlocked princely states of the Malwa plateau. The Malwa plateau was one of the two major opium-producing zones in the Indian subcontinent during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Access to the sea via Portuguese settlements, especially Daman, had important implications for the princely states in terms of the manner in which they negotiated with British colonialism. The stability and autonomy of the Gwalior state, for instance, down to the 1840s (even as it acknowledged British supremacy) is largely to be attributed to the success of the West Coast opium enterprise2. The colonial economy of the Estado da Índia in turn benefited from its involvement in the international trade in a high value commodity like opium.

Within a few years of the conquest of Bengal (1757) the East India Company declared a monopoly over the opium produce of the territories it had subjugated. By 1799 it had imposed a system whereby production, processing and sale of the drug was strictly regulated by the Company. From the early 1790s the East India Company had introduced a policy under which all the opium produced in its territories in Gangetic eastern India was directly appropriated by the Company from the peasant producers. Opium was procured in the raw, semi-liquid, state from poppy cultivators and processed by the Company in its own establishments. Processing mainly involved desiccation, and then packing opium formed into large balls in wooden chests. The bulk of this opium was intended for export, mainly to China. The Company's export opium ('Bengal opium') was auctioned at Calcutta to private dealers who then took the risk of smuggling the drug into China3.

The Qing imperial authorities had imposed a ban on the import of opium into China in 1729. Consequently, the Company preferred to let private traders run the risk of selling the drug at the China-end, rather than carrying opium in its own ships. This was a smuggling venture in China. Nevertheless, this smuggling venture became possible due to the protection that was provided by the East India Company, and the British government. When the Qing authorities threatened to extinguish smuggling of the commodity in the 1830s, by which time it had become a large-scale undertaking, the British promptly sent in armed forces to prevent them from doing so, and thereby uphold the principles of 'free trade'. This led to the First Opium War (1839-42).

The Malwa plateau (located in the western districts of present-day Madhya Pradesh, and south-eastern Rajasthan), also produced (and continues to produce) large quantities of opium. In the colonial period, the Malwa region was entirely under numerous princely states (subject to 'indirect rule'), so that the Company had no direct control over the production of the drug or its wholesale trade. Private Indian and European traders, initially Indo-Portuguese traders from Goa, pioneered the export of the opium produce of Malwa - "Malwa opium" - to China. Sea-borne exports of Malwa opium commenced in the last quarter of the eighteenth century. From 1803 onwards the Company imposed restrictions on the export of opium from the West Coast so as to prevent Malwa opium from competing with the Company's opium in the China market. This was a goal that the Company was unable to attain due to rampant smuggling of the drug through the Gujarat coast. The export trade in Malwa opium continued to expand in the early decades of the nineteenth century. The Company was then forced to give up its objective of having a market exclusively for Bengal opium. Instead, it attempted to establish a monopoly over Malwa opium as well by trying to procure the entire produce of the region, and auctioning it on the pattern of the Bengal opium auctions. Malwa opium auctions commenced in 1821 and were held at Bombay. The auctions were discontinued after 1830 since the Company was unable to emerge as the sole supplier of the Malwa drug. From 1831 onwards, private traders, both British and Indian, were allowed to export opium via Bombay on the payment of a moderate duty4.

The introduction of Malwa opium into the China market created a crisis for the Company as it could no longer hope to be the exclusive supplier of Indian opium. Further, the abolition of the East India Company's monopoly of trade with China led to an increase in the number private traders operating in the South China Sea from 1834 onwards. Most of these private traders were attracted by the lucrative opium smuggling enterprise centred on Canton. Among the private British firms in China engaged in opium smuggling the two most prominent were Jardine & Matheson and Dent & Co. By the 1820s a substantial portion of the drug sent out from Calcutta and Bombay was consigned to them. Of the two Jardine & Matheson, the bigger of the two firms, pushed its business more aggressively5.

After 1834 there was a sizeable rise in the number of opium chests shipped from India to China. According to figures worked out by Michael Greenberg, the leading historian of the crucial formative phase of the colonial opium venture in China and of the role played by the drug in unleashing the Opium War, exports of Bengal and Malwa opium roughly doubled between 1834/5 and 1838/39, from 21,885 chests to 40,200 chests6.

A massive expansion of the market for the drug in China could accommodate both 'brands' of opium. Such an objective could only be achieved by forcing the Chinese imperial authorities to remove restrictions on the opium trade. Seen from this perspective the First Opium War was the initial culmination of a chain of events set in motion by the emergence of Malwa opium as a rival to Bengal opium.

Indian traders in western India had demonstrated great ingenuity and resourcefulness in evading the Company's restrictions on the export of Malwa opium by developing a clandestine route for carrying the drug from producing areas to the West Coast for onward shipment to China. The route completely avoided British-administered territories. The main alternative route proceeded from northern Malwa to Pali in Rajasthan; from Pali across the Great Indian Desert to the port of Karachi on the Sind coast; from Karachi by sea to Portuguese Daman. It is pertinent that Daman is located very close to Bombay. The Portuguese imposed no restrictions on the transit of opium through Daman; in fact duties levied on opium imported into and exported from Daman were a source of revenue for the enclave. In official British records the label 'Daman opium' soon became a synonym for smuggled Malwa opium.

The smuggling route remained active till the end of the 1830s and was eventually abandoned after the First Opium War. The Opium War coincided with another event, namely the conquest of Sind by the British. The annexation of Sind in 1843 blocked the route from Rajasthan to Karachi. A reinterpretation of the evidence on the conquest of Sind suggests that 'some correlation existed between British opium policy on the one hand and the decision to annex Sind'7. With the military occupation of Karachi by British troops in 1839, prior to the annexation of the kingdom, opium supplies to Daman dried up. The early 1840s marked the end of the historically crucial first phase - the smuggling phase - of the Malwa opium enterprise.

Narcotrafficking was a source of capital accumulation for the nascent Indian bourgeoisie operating under colonial constraints. Given the restrictions imposed by the East India Company and the remote geographical location of the producing areas, this role might not have been possible without access to the Indian Ocean network of the Estado da Índia via Portuguese Daman. On the other hand, participation in the international trade in opium had far-reaching implications for Portuguese territories in India. This is a subject that requires much further research. One outcome was the greater degree of interaction at various levels between Portuguese India and British India in the nineteenth century. This increased interaction might partly account for the intellectual ferment in Portuguese India during the latter half of the century. Rochelle Pinto's study of printing and the public sphere in Goa during the post-1822 period demonstrates that the emergence of a vibrant public sphere in Portuguese India and debates on cultural and political issues were closely linked to intellectual trends in late nineteenth century British India during the early nationalist phase8. Such a development assumes a closer relationship between the Portuguese settlements and the British Empire in India than had been possible in the preceding two centuries of relative isolation. The economic integration of the two colonial spaces in the era of opium smuggling created the historical conditions for these developments.

The Portuguese settlements on the West Coast of India should not be viewed in isolation. They were part of a larger Portuguese Indian Ocean network, the latent potential of which came into full play with the opium trade. At one end of this network was the Mozambique-Gujarat link. A number of Gujarat merchants were active in Mozambique as were Indo-Portuguese merchants9. Circa 1823, offi cial Daman customs earnings from the trade with Mozambique stood at Rs.25000. This was the second largest source of revenue after opium10. Mozambique was an important market for East African slaves in the early nineteenth century11. Further, Gujarat supplied cloth to Mozambique in return for slaves and ivory12. We shall have more to say on the slave trade a little later. Then there was the commerce between Macau and the Portuguese colonies on western coast of India. Smuggled Malwa opium gave a boost to this commerce. There were a few other branches of this network, as the one between Macau and Timor, in which sandalwood was the main commodity13.

The entire network derived from space that Portuguese colonialism had historically appro priated as the first European colonial power in the Indian Ocean. This space was represented in territorial terms by strategically located settlements in the region. It also rested on traditional ties with indigenous and private European particip ants in Asian sea-borne commerce. This is not to suggest that this network was very strong. Quite to the contrary. But it was not extinct. The Portuguese empire in Asia survived by letting out the space that it had appropriated in the Indian Ocean to nu merous entrepreneurs who operated in the backwaters of the Company's empire in Asia. These could be Chinese, Gujarati, Parsi or private British traders. Portuguese colonial elites reinforced their own traditional ties with these groups by sharing their space with them in return for a minor share of earnings. They were thereby able to escape complete marginalization in a viciously competitive world. Besides, the Estado da Índia had a prominent non-official counterpart which was not subject to, and usually in defiance of, its authority. This was the underbelly of the Portuguese Indian Ocean Empire. Pirates, brigands, smugglers, adventurers, mercenaries, slave-traders, swindlers, cheats and run-away convicts constituted what has been referred to by George Winius as the Portuguese 'shadow empire' in Asia14.

The development of the Malwa opium export trade on the West Coast may be attributed to traders of Macau, Goa and Daman. The origin of the trade dates back to the 1770s when small quantities of the drug might have been supplied to China through Macau15. The Company's monopoly over Gangetic opium obviously motivated Indo-Portuguese traders to use their contacts in western India to procure Malwa opium. Macau traders had been dealing in Bengal opium during the eighteenth century, and continued to do so, but an alternative source of supply would not have been unwelcome. H.B. Morse in his Chronicles of the East India Company Trading to China refers to a representation made by the Portuguese authorities of Macau in 1804 to the English officials at Canton about the import of Malwa opium from Bombay16. What prompted the representation was not the importation of opium from a source other than Gangetic eastern India (this was really a matter of concern for the East India Company rather than the Portuguese authorities), but 'the fact that the opium was discharged and sold at Whampoa, to the detriment of Macao'17.

More than the Macau Portuguese it was the Indo-Portuguese traders on the West Coast of India who acquired large stakes in the growth of the Malwa opium trade. Being closer to the areas of production, they could pocket larger profits. The Indo-Portuguese traders of the West Coast virtually pio neered large-scale exports of Malwa opium to China in partnership with the Gujarat and Bombay traders at one end and the Macau Portuguese at the other. A leading role was played in this by Rogério de Faria, a native-born Indo-Portuguese merchant of Goa. Rogério de Faria was king of the Malwa opium sea-borne trade at the turn of the century. He was part of a group of Indo-Portuguese entrepreneurs who procured Malwa opium from Rajasthani and Gujarati suppliers for onward shipment to Macau. The Indo-Portuguese traders had set up their base at Bombay and/or Daman rather than at Goa since the capital of the Estado da Índia was situated at too great a distance from the main Malwa supply networks.

Portuguese records relating to the opium trade in Daman, Goa, Diu and Macau have only been partially mined. The broad contours of the history of Indo-Portuguese participation in the venture have been outlined in two studies, Celsa Pinto's account of the Portuguese "country" trade in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries and Teotonio de Souza's essay on Rogério de Faria.18Rogério de Faria dominated the opium export trade of the West Coast from the 1790s to the early 1820s and continued to be a prominent merchant even after that till the collapse of his business in the late-1830s. At the beginning of the nineteenth century he shifted his base to Bombay where he served as a link between Bombay, Daman and Macau. Rogério de Faria extended his commercial links to Brazil as well after 1807, when the Portuguese royal court shifted to Rio de Janeiro, and was appointed Consul for Brazil at Bombay.19

Teotonio de Souza discovered a precious private archive that has considerable information on de Faria's commercial activities - the Mhamai papers containing correspondence of the Kamat (Camotim) firm, a prominent Goan business concern. The Mhamai papers are among the holdings of the Xavier Centre of Historical Research, Porvorim (Goa).Unfortunately the Daman customs records (Alfândega de Damão) housed in the Goa State Archives, Panaji (Panjim) remain virtually unexplored. These, along with the Macau correspondence (Correspondência de Macau), can help us figure out the connections between merchants of Bombay, Gujarat, Malwa and Macau in the first half of the nineteenth century. The Portuguese authorities encouraged the export of opium through Daman (and Diu) throughout the period when its passage via Bombay was outlawed by the British, merely imposing a re-export duty on the commodity. Daman was the seat of government of the Estado da Índia's Província do Norte, the Northern Province of Portuguese territories on the West Coast of India.

Daman rapidly became the focal point of the Malwa sea-borne trade, eclipsing Goa as a commercial hub for a few decades. Writing about Goa in 1827, Cottineau de Kloguen noted that 'Daman is now not only comparatively, but really more commercial than Goa'20. Between 1800 and circa 1840 Daman was the economic pivot of the Portuguese colonial empire in Asia. After 1805, once Bombay had to be abandoned by opium exporters, Daman gradually emerged as the main entrepot where opium arriving from the Gujarat and Sind ports was gathered to await shipment to Macau. In 1820 Daman was opened to Portuguese as well as foreign ships for the opium export trade21. The Kachchh ports in north-western Gujarat, such as Mandvi and Lakhpat Bandar (besides numerous minor coastal stations), which were still beyond the reach of the Company, and Karachi, were intermediate ports for Daman consign ments. In the early twenties Iranian opium was also brought to Daman from the port of Bushire. There were consignments from Kandahar in Afghanistan as well, 'with notice that any quantity may be supplied from that province'22. It is most likely that some Turkish opium too went to China via Daman23.

The Indo-Portuguese traders were favourably placed to mobilize supplies of opium through their long-standing association with Gujarati traders. Celsa Pinto has underlined the multifarious nature of the existing trade between Daman and other parts of Gujarat during our period24. Till about 1815, Gujarati traders primarily acted as agents of Indo-Portuguese or indigenous Bombay middlemen for procuring Malwa opium through their traditional networks. The Indo-Portuguese and Macau Portuguese took over once the opium had reached Daman. It is only gradually that the Gujarati (and Rajasthani) dealers learnt of the real value of the commodity and then began supplying it directly to the West Coast shippers. John Dunlop, British collector of Ahmadabad in Gujarat, remarked in 1819,

Until about 4 years ago the merchants of Guzerat [Gujarat] were but little acquainted with the profits, or indeed the destination of the opium which they supplied, to Bom bay, or Portugueze merchants, according to the orders they might receive and their profits were confined to the commission of Agents, or at the utmost to driving the best bargain in their power, with those persons whom only they saw in the transaction.
The full value of this drug however soon became known, and about 4 years ago the Guzerattees [Gujaratis] began to contract directly for the delivery of opium to Pattamars or ships, wherever it might be required ... 25.
Daman assumed even greater significance after 1818 when the Company, following Third Anglo-Maratha War, emerged as a major territorial power in western India and attempted to enforce its ban on opium exports more extensively and rigorously. Simultaneously, as mentioned earlier, from 1821 onwards it began to purchase large quantities of opium directly from the Malwa market. Greenberg has estimated that in the 1820s, when the Company was participating in the Malwa opium trade, as much as two-thirds of the drug was being exported from Daman26. By now there were two varieties of Malwa in the market: Company Malwa and Daman Malwa. The Company's Malwa opium had to compete with Daman Malwa opium, while Bengal opium had to compete with both.

Indo-Portuguese traders of Daman performed three functions in the sea-borne opium trade. They managed coastal transportation of cargoes from Kar achi to Daman; they organized export transactions at Daman (probably as brokers); and they arranged for shipments to China, taking care of various requirements such as payment of customs duties and port clearances. The Daman-Macau segment was, of course handled by indigenous and European traders of Bombay, or the Macau Portuguese27.

The Daman supply market was dominated by nine indige nous traders: Modi Dorabji Nasserwanji (Mody Dorabssa Nasser vange), Byramji Bhikaji (Beramgi Bicaji), Kavasji Byramji (Caugi Beramgi), Moolchand Heerachand (Mulchand Íra), Karamchand Hur ruckchand (Caramchand Arcachande), Manickchand Hurruckchand (Manacchande Arcachand), Dayaram Dulobha (Dearamo Dulobo), Lal lubhai Valobdas (Lalú Valobo) and Racique Vallobo. These traders are stated to have been residents of the city28. Most of these names, of persons who imported 'opium on boats by sea, into Demaun, from Kurauchee, Palee, Cutch [Kachchh], and the ports of Scinde [Sind]', are mentioned in a detailed report sent from Daman in 1823 by an informant of the Company. The names of Byramji Bhikaji and Kavasji Bhikaji are omitted in this particular report. Interestingly the information was acquired from Byramji and Kavasji, who ap peared to pretend that they themselves did not participate in the trade. Among other things, the informant learnt that shortly 'two ships belonging to Sir Roger de Faria Portuguese are expected from Bombay to take it [opium] to Macau'29. One of these ships was the Castro (earlier named Conde do Rio Pardo) that eventually sailed from Daman, according to other sources, on April 29, with 1103 chests valued at Rs.1, 391,940 belonging to Rogério de Faria, Racique Valobo, Caugi Beramgi, Beramgi Bicagi, Dearamo Dulobo, Caromchande Amarchande, Mulchand Íra, Manacchand Arcachande, Mody Dorabça Nacervangi and Lalú Valobo30.

Dayaram Dulobha had been active in the Daman-Goa trade since the turn of the century. He re mained a key figure in the Daman trade throughout our period. The names of Moolchand Heerachand and Karamchand Hurruckchand crop up repeat edly in contemporary records, both Portuguese and British. António Moniz in his historical account of Daman refers to Moolchand Heerachand (Mulchande Íra) as one of those merchants who introduced the opium commerce in the port31. Byramji Bhikaji and his son Kavasji Byramji belonged to a family of Parsi priests. The family had settled down in Pune (Poona) in the mid-eighteenth century and later moved to the Portuguese territo ries in Gujarat. Byramji became a revenue-farmer for some of the petty chiefs in Gujarat. Byramji diversified into commerce and invested money in the opium trade during the twenties. His business was later carried on by his two sons Bhikaji Byramji and Kavasji Byramji. They owned a ship that plied between Daman, Bombay, China and Mozambique32. Of the two brothers (Bhikaji and Kavasji), Kavasji was more important in the opium trade.

The stable, but authoritarian and pro-absolutist, administra tion of Julião José da Silva Vieira who was governador of Daman from the late 1820s to 1834, helped to consolidate the key position of the port on the West Coast. This was a time of prosperity for the city. The affluence of Daman found expression in the construction of new public buildings, as for example the government secretariat (popularly called the torrinha, or gallery). Customs revenues derived from opium made available the finances for this construction activity33. Daman was also a centre of ship-building.

Encouragement received from the Portuguese authorities, coupled with facilities they could provide both in western India and at the China end, had lured a large number of opium smugglers and shady opera tors to Portuguese enclaves. The British authorities repeatedly appealed to the Portuguese government to check the trade, but to little avail. It was not till the 1830s, when the Company altered its Malwa opium policy, which allowed the drug to pass through Bombay on the payment of a duty, that the Daman trade declined-but was not immediately abandoned. In China, preference was being increasingly shown for Lintin by a growing number of traders. The Portuguese interlude, though brief, contributed significantly to altering the nature of Brit ish involvement in Malwa opium.

In the long run the Estado da Índia could not have sustained the opium trade, especially after Bombay had been opened for private exports of the drug. The economy of Daman, or of the Estado da Índia, was much too weak to be able to compete with Bombay. The financial and commercial infrastructure of Daman was just no match for the facilities available in British India. We also need to bear in mind that as most of the bulk dealers who shipped opium from Daman were based in Bombay, ultimately it was the British colonial port that reaped the benefits of the Daman trade.

The decline of Daman after the mid-1830s was hastened by upheavals in Portuguese India following the absolutist defeat in Portugal in 1833-3434. In the struggle for power in the Portuguese colonies during the early 1830s, against the backdrop of the fierce conflict between liberals and absolutists in Portugal, Rogério de Faria sup ported the government of Bernardo Peres da Silva that had been ousted at Goa. Peres da Silva was the first Indo-Portuguese Goan to head the government of Portuguese India and was given the designation of prefeito (1834). He was appointed by the regime installed in Portugal in 1834 under Maria II, but was forced to leave Goa by racist-absolutist elements in 1835. Peres da Silva moved to Daman35. Here he received the support and financial assistance of de Faria, and with the latter's help formed a provisional government which lasted till 1837. Rogério de Faria was given certain exemptions on customs duties by the new administration. This might have been a desperate attempt on the part of de Faria to recover the business he had lost to Bombay merchants. The plan to restore Peres da Silva's authority at Goa failed and brought about de Faria's bankruptcy in 183836.

As we have already noted, the opium trade, especially its smuggling component, reactivated the latent Portuguese sea-borne commercial network in Asia and East Africa. The Indo-Portuguese traders were active participants in exchanges between the Indian sub-continent on the one hand and the Arabian Sea, the Persian Gulf, East Africa and the Eastern Mediterranean on the other. Narcotic substances, particularly opium, created, and were part of, a complex web of relationships extending from the Mediterranean and East Africa to the South China Sea. During the first half of the nineteenth century, Indian opium was the single most valuable commodity sustaining these relationships. There was, besides, opium that moved from the Eastern Mediterranean to the western coast of India and thence to East Asia (though some of it would have gone directly as well). Turkish and Egyptian varieties were well known in Asia in the early modern period. In the sixteenth century Garcia da Orta referred to the opium of Cairo (Meceri) in his Colloquies, as did his near-contemporary Dutch traveller Linschoten37. At the beginning of the nineteenth century, Egyptian opium, known locally as Misree (literally, from Misr or Egypt) was one of the varieties of the drug available at Gujarat ports. This was transported by sea from the Red Sea ports, and some of it was consumed in India itself (mainly in Multan, southern Panjab)38. However, it was Turkish opium that figured more prominently than Egyptian opium (or the produce of other parts of the Eastern Mediterranean) in the list of drugs that constituted part of the long-distance trade of the Eastern Mediterranean-Red Sea-Indian Ocean-South China Sea networks. As already mentioned earlier, small quantities of opium from Iran, Afghanistan and Turkey were being re-exported via Daman at the peak of the smuggling era. Recent research on the subject would indicate that the smuggling enterprise stimulated opium cultivation in Iran and that the commodity was fairly important for the economy of the area in the latter half of the century39.

At the same time the involvement of Indo-Portuguese traders in the opium trade centred on Daman gave a stimulus to the slave trade between East Africa and the western coast of India in the first half of the nineteenth century. We have referred to the Mozambique-Gujarat sector of the slave trade above. While this sector of the trade has been studied by, among others, Edward Alpers and Rudy Bauss, the history of the East Africa-Karachi segment remains somewhat obscure. It is not sufficient to focus on the Gujarat coast to grasp the extent to which the opium trade encouraged the slave trade in the Indian Ocean. The slave trade of the Sind coast was a vital part of the overall trade between India on the one hand and East Africa and the Red Sea on the other. After all southern Sind still has a large, and socially cohesive, community of African slave descent, namely the Sidis40. The slave trade of Karachi was flourishing during the 1820s and 1830s. It is no coincidence that these were the decades in which the port began attracting a large business in smuggled opium.

There are frequent references to the slave trade of Karachi in reports prepared by the East India Company's officials on the eve of the annexation of Sind. A report on the port and town of Karachi, written just around the time that the city was occupied by the Company's troops in 1839, mentions two "classes" of slaves brought from Africa, "The Siddees or Africans and Hubshees or Abyssinians [from Ethiopia". According to the report slaves from various parts of the African coast were first brought to Muscat in the Persian Gulf from where they were transported to Karachi to be then "sent up the country for sale"41. Occasionally there were also slaves from Eastern Europe, Georgians for instance, who were "brought down but only on a private order, their price being too high to admit of any speculations being made in them"42.

The traffickers in human cargo and narcotics reinforced each other, casting their nets very wide, so as to include the eastern Mediterranean in the west and the farther edges of the South China Sea in the east. The clandestine trade in the two commodities (for there was British pressure on the Portuguese by the mid-1830s to put an end to the slave trade) moved along channels initially excavated by the Portuguese, large stretches of which often ran dry in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, but which witnessed a brief revival in the first half of the nineteenth century. This brief revival eventually benefited British colonialism and, in a subordinate way, Asian indigenous elites, much more than it did the Portuguese economy for reasons that are well known. Nonetheless we are still far from having a comprehensive understanding of the implications of the opium trade of the nineteenth century for Portugal itself.

To conclude, one would like to emphasize the need to be attentive to the histories of the knowledge of narcotics and of medicine, transmission of techniques, modifications of taste, and cultural practices pertaining to intoxication while probing the history of opium in the colonial era. The wide geographical scope of the exchanges involved in moving the commodity from producers to consumers created a historically new situation that has not been adequately explored. The under-developed nature of the historiography of other, non-British, colonialisms in the Indian subcontinent has rendered this task all the more difficult since the Estado da Índia is an absence (as are other non-British, including French, colonial possessions on the Indian subcontinent) in histories of colonial India43.

Yet, we need to recover the history of the relationships that linked the Indo-Portuguese world to both the Indian subcontinent as well as to the wider world of the seas and oceans if we are to break out of the narrow confines of 'national' histories. It is only then that we might be able to make sense of the histories of people inhabiting spaces without boundaries, as for example the lascars, the quintessential rootless products of sea-dominating colonialisms44. In the words of Amitav Ghosh, "The lives of the lascars should be of more interest today than before because they were the first Asians and Africans to participate freely and in substantial numbers in a globalised workspace"45. To know the shadowy world of narcotrafficking in the nineteenth century is, then, to know also the ill-defined world of the lascars and other such people and communities and their historical experiences; their destinies too need to find a place in studies that attempt to explore global history.

To come back to the centrality of opium to the global history of capitalism as an integral part of the histories of other colonial commodities such as tea, sugar and cotton. Opium exports from India to China steadily increased from the 1790s to finance the purchase of Chinese tea by the East India Company for the British market. Simultaneously there was the growth of the export of raw cotton from Bombay to China. By the turn of the century it was no longer necessary to carry bullion to China for the Company's tea investments. The massive increase in the importation of tea into Britain was facilitated by Pitt's Commutation Act of 1784 that substantially lowered duties imposed on the commodity. The expansion of the British market for tea was accompanied by a corresponding increase in the consumption of sugar. Tea and sugar went hand-in-hand. Sidney Mintz has shown that the century from 1750 to 1850 witnessed the "popularization of sweetened tea" in the United Kingdom.46 The easily assimilated calories that its consumption provided made it an essential component of the working class diet. He observes that "Children learned the sugar habit at a very tender age: sweetened tea was a part of every meal...".47

At this time Britain obtained most of its sugar from its colonies in the Caribbean where it was produced by slave labour. As we know this slave labour was in turn obtained from Africa through the long-established Atlantic slave trade. The existence of the Atlantic slave trade made possible the use of slave labour on a scale that was unprecedented in modern times, for the production of cotton in the southern states of America. The cotton produced in the southern states of America became the main source of supply of raw material for the Lancashire cotton industry. We have thus two interlinked 'trade triangles': Africa-Caribbean/USA-Britain and India-China-Britain. 'Trade triangle' is however a misnomer, for these are really descriptions of mechanisms for the one-way flow of wealth to the metropolis of which Britain was till the third quarter of the nineteenth century the main global centre.

Source: The Global Career of Indian Opium and Local Destinies

Cheers, Doc
 
Bottom line @Rivino.

Under the British, there was a drug war.

Hindu cartel. Parsi cartel. Muslim cartel.

Parsis pretty ruthlessly became the drug lords of most of Asia.

India. China. Hong Kong.

Don't cry now. About collaboration.

Because you Hindus did play. And came out second best.

Cheers, Doc
 
Matthew A. Cook gives a context to the socio-political situation in which the Bhaiband Sindhwork trading empires developed, and describes the role of the East India Company.

Power and Hindu minorities
How powerful were Hindu minorities in colonial and pre-colonial Sindh? This is a rather complicated question, so what I’m going to do here is take it in three different pieces. First let me address the Hindu part, then I’ll address the minority part and then I’ll deal with the power issue.

There is a general tendency in the historiography of South Asia, starting in around the second half of the 19th century, to talk about the social geography and environment of India as being divided between Hindus and Muslims.

Now this is a trend that started earlier. It can be traced back maybe to the 18th century. But it became much more intensely felt in India in the latter part of the 19th century. You just have to look at the work of Sandra Freitag or Gyanendra Pandey in order to illustrate this fact. This tendency moved on through the 20th century. You see a communalisation of history and identity in Sindh; intensely so in the course of the first half of the 20th century, ultimately culminating in Partition.

A lot of Sindhis, a group I like to call the Diaspora Sindhis, left Sindh after Partition and have increasingly identified themselves as ‘Hindu Sindhis’. One of the difficulties of this particular identification of these groups as ‘Hindu’ Sindhis really has to do with the religious genealogy and history and sociocultural practices of these communities.

As most Sindhis will be able to tell you, their religious practices tend to include and sometimes focus on the Guru Granth Sahib. This is really important, because it points back to a history that traces many of these Hindu Sindhis or Diaspora Sindhis back to the Punjab.[ii]So a lot of these groups are not particularly orthodox Hindus in the traditional sense. In fact, they have a genealogy that points back to Sikhism. A lot of them are in fact historically what we call Nanak Panthis or followers of Guru Nanak; that is, non-Khalsa Sikhs.

Now this history is particularly important, because it points towards the origin stories of many Diaspora Sindhis or ‘Hindu Sindhis’. Many of the communities that were forced to flee during and after Partition, or the individuals who were forced to flee during and after Partition, have genealogies that take them back not to Mohenjodaro or even into medieval Sindh, but rather to the Punjab and the twilight of the Mughal empire there.

In the Punjab we had a situation in the 18th century with the demise of the Mughal empire state. And we see the rise of the Jats and under the banner of the Khalsa. What we have going on in this part of India during the 18th century is in fact increasing violence: increasing violence that actually pits different kinds of Sikh communities against each other. So it was Mughal imperial policy during this particular period to particularly promote non-Khalsa, non-Jat groups, specifically the Khatri. The Khatri were largely urban, administrative castes. If you see the look at the violence in the Punjab in the 18th or the 19th centuries, with the disintegration of the Mughal Empire and the rise of the Sikh states, what you observe is a lot of urban-rural violence which invariably involves Jat and Khatri violence also.

During this time period, the Punjab is becoming an increasingly hostile place for urban as well as administrative groups associated or attached to the Mughal imperial structure. We have at the same time, the Mughal imperial structure having already dissolved to the south of the Punjab in Sindh and the development in the opening up of successor states in this particular time period. The violence in the Punjab during the 18th century, with the establishment of the Khalsa and the other Sikh states dominated by Jats, and given the trading as well as government opportunities in more stable regions to the south of the Punjab, in Sindh, was an incredible draw for certain caste groups, particulary Khatris who, in fact, migrated from the Punjab into Sindh during the 18th century.

A lot of these particular groups were then subsequently integrated into local regional categories in Sindh, particularly amongst the Lohana group. Now the Lohanas were a category that can be traced back through the medieval period but one that had been depopulated as Lohanas converted to Islam and other faiths.

The Lohana are traditionally associated with mercantile and merchant groups. The groups coming into the Punjab from the north were integrated into the Lohana social category and as a result found themselves integrated into a sort of grab-bag category with a lot of other individuals.

What this means is that as a result of this particular set of migrations [from the Punjab], which were particularly noticeable/intense in the 18th century, is that a lot of individuals who identify now as ‘Hindu Sindhis’ have genealogies which trace back to it. And a lot of them are, in fact, as I said before, ‘Nanak Panthis’ and they are not strictly speaking orthodox Hindus. This is why you also see a variety of religious practices amongst Sindhis, many of whom have genealogies which trace back to the Sikhs. As I mentioned before, the Guru Granth Sahib is particularly important in many Hindu Sindhi temples and also ‘Punjabi’ is not an uncommon name among Hindu Sindhis.[iii]

It is a bit of a misnomer to identify these groups as ‘Hindu Sindhis’ in the context of the colonial and pre-colonial period. It’s a much more appropriate term to use for the post-Partition period. However, as you shift back in time, as happens with many social categories, it becomes more difficult to maintain the identity over time.

Now, considering the power of Hindu minorities in colonial and precolonial Sindh, the question of these minority groups, whether you call them ‘Nanak Panthis’ or whether or not you identify them as Hindus, is in fact a very complicated question too. If you look at the entirety of Sindh, these groups, whether you call them Hindus or Nanak Panthis or Lohanas, were minorities. But they are only minorities when you consider the population as a whole. If you disaggregate the population between urban and rural, you see a slightly different story. The Hindu groups or Nanak Panthis or Lohanas—or non-Muslims, which is probably a better way to put it—were always a minority in the rural sectors of Sindh. However, if we follow the work of Alan Jones, this was not always the case in the urban centres of India.[iv] In fact there are a number of situations where the non-Muslim groups occupied the majority of the population in the urban centres. And this is the reason why many of these particular groups had very powerful positions within the urban centres of Sindh. They occupied and controlled, for instance, the institutions of social and political importance in Sindh’s urban centres. They also occupied the economic positions of power as mediators of the rural economy with the wider world.[v] So to talk about Hindus as being a minority in Sindh may be true in one sense. But if you look at it more deeply what you end up finding is a more complicated story which actually tells different stories based on whether you are discussing rural Sindh or urban Sindh or whether you’re talking about the entire population of the region.

In addition to the complications, going to the question of whether or not the Hindu minorities of Sindh had power in colonial and pre-colonial Sindh, one has to address the issue of power. I glossed over it quickly, with reference to the urban influence, or the influence of non-Muslims in urban Sindh/in the colonial and pre-colonial period.

It is definitely the case that non-Muslims, be they Lohana or be they Nanak Panthis or Hindus, in pre-colonial and colonial Sindh were far from powerless. It is often the case, if you look at the literature in the 19th century, particularly the British literature in the 19th century, that these minority groups were marked as oppressed minorities in Sindh. This was used ideologically by the colonial state in order to justify the annexation of Sindh in the 1840s. If you actually get into the sources, the local and the religious sources that are available in different parts of the world, you find that the story about the oppressed minority Hindu in Sindh is a little more complicated. And the plain fact of the matter is that, in colonial and pre-colonial Sindh, and at least starting in the 18th centuries, ‘Hindu’ groups (for example Amils and Bhaibands), who are, in fact, subgroups of the Lohana, occupied particularly important positions of power in colonial and pre-colonial Sindh. Amils had a monopoly on the power of the state and in pre-colonial SIndh they were the state administrators of the Amirs’ state. They were in fact, as I say in my book, ‘the officers of despotism’ rather than the Amirs themselves.[vi]

The Bhaiband, in contrast, had a monopoly on the power of capital in colonial and pre-colonial Sindh.[vii] So these particular powerful minority groups, who would today identify themselves as being ‘Hindu’, were far from powerless. They controlled two really important elements of power in colonial and pre-colonial Sindh, both the political power, that is of the state, through the administration and through the Amils; and the power of capital, the power of money, through Bhaibands. So I would make the argument that ‘Hindu’ minorities in colonial and pre-colonial Sindh were nowhere near as powerless or in need of saving by the colonial state, thereby requiring the annexation of Sindh in the 1840s, as the colonial sources make them out to be.


Spectrum of business
What was the spectrum of business that Hindu Sindhis or non-Muslim Sindhis were involved in? I would address this in a couple of ways. Let me look at the precolonial story because that’s what I know best from my own research. And then let me gloss a little bit and look towards the colonial era to answer that.

What did these groups deal in? Where was it coming from? To whom did they sell? Well, during the pre-colonial period, before the 1840s, it is very difficult to tell exactly. And one of the reasons for this is the nature of the kinds of source materials that we have dating before the mid-19th century. In the 1850s, the British decided that the Persian source of government records in Sindh were of no use to them and destroyed them. A lot of what we have in terms of information about commodities, trade and these sorts of things were all filtered through the East India Company archive and the priorities of the East India Company and its various officers at this given time. So a lot of what we know about this period and the pre-colonial period is a little speculative.

But what I can say is this. Most of the business practices engaged in by various Bhaiband or various Hindu traders were all attached to the agrarian economy in Sindh. During this period and a lot of periods the agrarian economy in South Asia is particularly important. South Asia is still largely agrarian in nature. And the place where sovereigns were able to extract the most wealth, in terms of taxes, was always from agrarian production. So a lot of the trade and economy in Sindh and in South Asia in the 19th century and before, for many centuries previous to this, was all tied up with issues of agrarian production. So we do know in fact that Hindu merchant traders or Bhaibands were deeply involved in the grain markets and in the moving around of grain and the purchasing of grain and the selling of grain. We also know that a lot of them were involved in the financing side of things. So there is a large range of activity, going all the way from the small grain merchants to the large business houses that had diversified business interests, including financing for various different projects. But a lot of this financing and a lot of the activity that these Hindu merchants were, in fact, involved in were rotated around the agrarian economy in Sindh in some way or another, and this is consistent with the social experience in South Asia, in general, during this particular time period.

Naomul Traitor
Was the Hindu merchant Naomul Hotchand a traitor? In order to answer this particular question you need to ask another question and that is, a traitor to what?

Was Naomul a traitor to Pakistan? I think it becomes very difficult to sustain that position, merely because the idea of Pakistan as a polity wasn’t particularly at play during the middle of the 19th century. As a concept, it developed rather late, in the period leading up to Partition in the middle of the 20th century. I direct you towards the work of David Gilmartin on the idea of Pakistan in order to get a better sense of the newness, as it developed over the 20th century.[viii] So it is difficult, I think, to make the argument that Naomul was a traitor to Pakistan when, in fact, the idea of Pakistan wasn’t actually in existence in any meaningful way during Naomul’s life. You might then argue and ask whether Naomul was a traitor to Sindh? This is also a problematic argument in fact because the plain truth of the matter is that Sindh as a unified nation or nationality or polity really only came into being over the course of 19th century. If you remember, in the pre-colonial, pre-annexation period, the geographical region that we now call Sindh was divided up into various semi-independent sovereignties. You had the Mirs of Khairpur, the Mirs of Mirpur and the Mirs of Hyderabad. There were three different houses. The largest and most powerful of these groups were the Baluchistani Talpur Mirs of Hyderabad. The Talpur Mirs of Hyderabad ran their state in a rather decentralised way. They were called the Char Yar, or the four friends. But it would be inaccurate to talk about Sindh as a unified polity, at least during the course of the first half of the 19th century. Sindh as a political and social unit and the Sindhi national identity becomes much more coherent in the course of the 19th century. It would be inaccurate to take social categories that occur after Naomul’s life and apply them to his actions in a more familiar time period. So it’s hard for me to conceptualise Naomul as a traitor to Sindh, given the fact that the region didn’t have quite the same coherent polity and national identity that developed later on, after his death, starting in the latter part of the 19th century and becoming much more clear during the 20th century.

East India Company influence
How did the East India Company annexation of Sindh in 1843 impact the region socio-politically? Well, it’s safe to say that the impact of annexation by the East India Company and the subsequent colonial rule of South Asia by the British had a rather uneven impact on Sindh through the 19th century. In some domains the changes that were brought by annexation and colonisation were felt much more intensely than in other areas. So, for example, if you look in the domain of agrarian social structure power relations, it’s easy to make the argument that the impact of colonialism was, in fact, not so sharply felt by many at the local level.

Now the reason for this has to do with the actions of Charles Napier in 1843 or 1844, when he essentially called in all of the land owners (all the zamindars, waderos and jagirdars) to come to a big durbar to essentially reaffirm their allegiance to the British colonial state and to the East India Company in lieuof the Amirs. And what he ended up doing was merely reaffirming all of the land holdings, all the rights to collect taxes, and ownership of land that had previously existed. Now this caused a lot of confusion for the British. Because one of the major sources of revenue for the East India Company state was the taxation of agrarian produce. And if, as Napier did, the Company merely reaffirmed all of the titles and rights to the product of the land, on the part of the indigenous elite, it left these colonial administrators with no actual knowledge of the economic fecundity of the region. In fact, it took them a long time to sort this all out. The first printed comprehensive land settlement work wasn’t done until the 1860s, although they started working on it in the 1840s to clear up the rules about who owned what. And the reason for this was, of course, because agrarian taxation was one of the most important sources of income that the East India Company had at this given time. Now what all this has meant is that a number of different historians, who have done some excellent work, have made an argument (that, I think, can be sustained) that, in fact, the impact of colonialism on agrarian social structure in Sindh was relatively light. What they had was a policy of ruling the elites and not actually ruling particularly directly. And, in part, this was the reason that they didn’t have the kind of knowledge that was required for that kind of direct/local/on-the-ground rule, on account of Napier coming in and reaffirming all the rights and privileges of all the indigenous land owners in Sindh following the annexation of the region.

Now, having said that, if you take a look at the domain of social structure in agrarian Sindh, you can make the argument that the impact of the East India Company socio-politically wasn’t that great on the ground [but] you can look at other domains and make the argument that it was quite transformative in its nature. Sindh became a sort of more singular administrative and political unit in a way that it hadn’t been before. Prior to annexation in 1843, Sindh had been divided into three semi-independent kingdoms ruled three different Amirs. This whole situation was washed away and the entire region was, subsequently, put under Napier as a governor, who reported directly to the Governor General in Calcutta. In 1847, the situation changed and Sindh was put under a Commissioner, who directly reported to the Governor of Bombay who, then, reported to the Governor General in Calcutta.

But the point that I want to make is that, regardless of both these issues or both these time periods (the period between 1843 and 1847 or after 1847), Sindh developed a much more singular political structure and administrative structure and this was a great transformation. It gave it a certain sense of unity that allowed people to begin imagining themselves as part of a particular, singular, not only polity but, I dare say, nation. And we see this development of the idea of a more coherent Sindhi national identity developing in the latter part of the 19th century, in part, as a result of its integration into the British Empire. And we see this, for example, in the area of scripts. Prior to the British annexation of Sindh, Sindhis wrote the Sindhi language in a whole variety of scripting systems. When the British came in, they said “now this isn’t going to work” and, to gloss over a very complicated debate, the British colonial state decided that Sindhi would be written in one script and that would be in naskh, which is the Arabic script. What this did was it provided a more singular way to communicate. A more singular way for the people of Sindh to understand themselves as Sindhis. It gave them a more unified language and scripting system on which to base or to imagine, if you will, a more unified national identity. This particular development was very much a result of decision-making that was within the British colonial state. Now the British colonial state—say, for example, on this scripting issue—did consult indigenous ‘experts’. In the case of the fixing and codification of the script, what happened was that an indigenous committee was set up and they attempted to make suggestions and modifications to the form of naskh that the British colonial state had decided was going to be the writing system for the Sindhi language. They submitted a report to the Commissioner of Sindhi, Bartle Frere, in the early part of the 1850s and Bartle Frere’s response to them was that you have misunderstood your position. Your position, he told them, is merely to suggest indigenous texts that we can put into the script and thereby train our British colonial officers to become fluent in the Sindhi language. He informed the committee of indigenous experts that it was not their job to make suggestions about—or improvements on—the script that had been decided upon following the suggestions of Richard Burton.

So we have a situation here in which you can quite directly show how the impact of the British colonial experience and annexation by the East India Company was very profound on the socio-cultural life of many Sindhis. And that is [in] the choice and the decision to write the Sindhi language in naskh is directly related to decisions on the part of the British colonial state following the annexation in 1843.

I believe that the final decision on the naskh issue was in 1855 or 1856. This was a profound transformation that increasingly allowed Sindhis to think of themselves and communicate in a singular script and to think of themselves as a singular nation or sort of identity, or imagine themselves as a more singular identity.

How and why did the East India Company set up operations in Sindh
I’m going to answer this in the sphere of research I know best, which is the annexation. The British interest in Sindh continued to increase right through the course of the 19th century. A lot of the interest was not necessarily due to economic interests but due to political interests. But having said that, the East India Company often framed its interests in terms of economics. So, for example, if you look at the British literature in the 19th century on the issue of Sindh, you find a lot of individuals talking about the importance of free trade. This was consistent with the British Empire across the world as well as South Asia, this emphasis on free trade. The idea behind this was, of course, to open up the Indus. Sindh, with its Indus, was described by Eastwick as a Nile-like paradise.[ix] Opening it up to free trade would be a way to potentially gain access to markets in Central Asia. Now, of course, this was only part of the story. Free trade was often wielded, right through the 19th century (and to some degree even today), as a tool for justifying imperial expansion and interventions. In reality, one of the things that the British were interested in, with regard to Sindh, was to attempt to check what they viewed as a threat to their imperial sovereignty in South Asia by the Russians, who had been expanding their influence throughout Central Asia during the course of the 19th century. So the interest in Sindh and the annexation by the East India Company was, in many ways, a part of what they called The Great Game: The great game of imperial cat and mouse that was occurring in Central Asia, as well as other places (such as Persia), between the British Empire and the Russian Empire. So the interest of the East India Company in Sindh was often expressed in terms of economic interest (and the desire to expand free trade in the Indus and Central Asia), in fact, had a very profound and important political dimension attached to the Great Game and the competition for imperial power between the East India Company, representing the British Empire, and the Russian Empire. Now, having said that, let me also say that the British were also interested in South Asia for economic reasons that were not attached to free trade. And I’m thinking of the scholarship of Wong[x]. Wong wrote a very interesting article, some years ago, about how the British were interested in annexing Sindh and extending their influence into Sindh not for free trade purposes but the opposite of it—for closing down trading opportunities. For those of you who are familiar with the history of South Asia and the East India Company in the 19th century, you’ll know that it’s a history of increasingly restricted monopolies. As in the Charter Act of 1832, where you see a major constriction on the commodities and goods that the Company is allowed to have a monopoly on. Now, this leads to a couple of different things. One, at least, to an increasing interest in the Company acquiring land because land taxes on agrarian products were not excluded from the Charter Act as a domain from which the Company could extract wealth and taxes. As a result, you see in the period after the 1832 Charter Act, an increasing territorial expansion of direct rule by the East India Company in South Asia. And the reason for that is land taxes: it was one of the few areas the Company still had control over as an important source of revenue. Now, the other part of the story is that the 1832 Charter Act excluded opium from competition, from free trade. Opium was still a monopoly held by the East India Company. Wong argues that the East India Company was interested in extending their influence and openly annexing Sindh as a result of wanting to shut down, not promote, trade routes for opium that competed with those of the East India Company. Wong’s article is explicit in saying that the Company’s interest in Sindh had nothing to do with free trade—as many of their public documents stated—but for exactly the opposite reason. They wanted to cut down on trading opportunities in a particular commodity that they retained a monopoly on. And it was particularly important for the Company to shut down competing trade routes for opium to China. The reason for this was, as I mentioned, the sources of income for the Company after the Charter Act of 1832 were increasingly affected and land taxes, over the territory they ruled directly, was one area that it was dependent upon to finance itself and the other area was opium production and sale of opium to China in particular. 1840s is the period in which we have the Opium Wars, which were wars fought by the Company in order to protect its right to keep the Chinese addicted to opium, a product that it was producing in South Asia.

About the term Bhaiband
Bhaiband is the indigenous social category that is used to talk about the Hindu traders and merchants of Sindh. About the origin of the term, I don’t have a definitive sort of statement or conclusion. However, I can say a couple of different things that are relevant to understanding the term and what it tells us about the broader socio-cultural geography of Sindh as a region.

The term itself, if you look at the etymology of the words, is broken down into two words. One is bhai, the common Sanskrit-derived Hindi word for brother, and the other is bandh. Now the bandh part of this comes from bandhna or to tie, or to bring together. So quite literally the translation of this is ‘the tying together of brothers’ and that’s why the term Bhaiband has often been translated as ‘brotherhood’. Now what’s important about this term, that you’ve already maybe gathered, is that it comes as a marker of socio-cultural identity out of the Sanksrit-based linguistic traditions. Now what’s important here is that some of the other ‘Hindu’ groups of colonial and pre-colonial Sindh have histories of terminology that are in fact very different. So, if we take, for example, a look at the other major dominant group, in pre-colonial Sindh, of non-Muslims, these would be the Amils. We have a situation in colonial and pre-colonial Sindh. The area of capital and wealth was very much dominated by Bhaiband traders who controlled the power of capital. On the other hand, you had a group called the Amils, who controlled the power of the state. Now, the genealogy for the term Amil comes out of the Persian tradition and refers to the Mughal administrative category of Amal. Not Amil but, rather, Amal. This is a Persian term that is used to refer to a government administrator and was a term that was, in fact, used in the Mughal administration. What we have here is a really fascinating example of the two dominant moieties of the ‘Hindus’ in colonial and pre-colonial Sindh having somewhat different genealogies, although both of them were part of a larger umbrella group called the Lohana. Genealogies for the term that they called themselves then point, one, to an Indo-Persian terminology and the other points, in fact, to a more Sanskrit terminology. And what’s interesting about this is the accommodation of both of these traditions under a sort of singular category. What it points towards is the traditional kind of cultural ease and mix that has characterised, at least up to the 20th century, the socio-cultural condition of Sindh—where the hard and fast categories based on communal understandings of history between Hindus versus Muslims don’t particularly hold very well. I think the term Bhaiband, with it sort of leaning towards Sanskrit linguistic traditions and the Amils with their term and that category glancing towards the indo-Islamic and Persian traditions under one singular community category, the Lohana, points towards this easy mixing and flowing across religious boundaries which hardened much later, in the 19th century and leading up to Partition in the 20th century. So, while I don’t have an idea on the origin of the word Bhaiband, what it does point to is what I think are some important and very interesting facts about the nature of socio-cultural life and the fluidity of certain religious categories and practices as socio-cultural categories during the colonial and pre-colonial period.


How is it that conflict between various indigenous groups in Sindh facilitated the annexation of Sindh and how it is that this conflict may or may not have played a role in the formation of the modern Sindhi diaspora
Let me roll this question back a little bit and talk not historically but anthropologically, particularly about the competition and the relationship (and the hierarchies) of social power among the Lohana in colonial and pre-colonial Sindh. As I mentioned previously, the Lohana are an overarching socio-cultural category, a socio-cultural category that has been in existence in Sindh since at least back to the medieval period. And if you’re interested in the early histories of this category I suggest you read Derryl MacLean’s work on medieval Sindh and the Arab invasions.[xi] What happened following the Arab invasions, as Derryl MacLean illustrates, was a depopulation of this particular social category. As increasing numbers of migrants came into Sindh in the twilight of the Mughal Empire in the Punjab (and those groups migrated looking for economic opportunities and employment opportunities in Sindh and in successor states in the 18th century), you had these groups being integrated into the Lohana category. Now, over some time, many of these groups who were coming in, migrating in the course of the 18th century, were Khatris. And Khatris with experience in government administration. So we see a development, [the] bifurcation of the Lohana community into two separate endogamous moieties. One of these is based on the pursuit of the power of capital, the Bhaibands, and the other is those who rotated their identity around the pursuit of the power of the state—the Amils. But within the Lohana category, these two increasingly endogamous groups, that’s not to say that there weren’t occasionally intermarriages between these two groups but they became increasingly less common. In part that’s because marriage in South Asia is a marker of social distinction and status. It occurs all across South Asia and even in Sindh, as in this example, that one way that you mark your distinction as being separate—either as being superior hierarchically or inferior hierarchically from another groups—is by allowing marriage alliances or not allowing marriage alliances. So we have a situation in Sindh of Bhaibands and Amils becoming increasingly endogamous and a distinction, a status distinction, subsequently happening, where Amils began considering themselves (because of their association with the state) as being of higher social status and standing than Bhaibands. And this is a social distinction that continues with the community until today to varying degrees. Although, to be honest, Partition has helped obliterate some of this power distinction between Amils and Bhaibands within the Lohana community. However, during the colonial and pre-colonial periods (it’s important not to read back the postcolonial into the colonial) this distinction between being Amils and being Bhaibands was very profoundly understood and the distinction of Amils being superior/more sophisticated/more educated than Bhaibands (and looking down upon them) was something profoundly felt within the social dynamics and interactions amongst Sindhis who were of the Lohana category. Now, one of the things about Naomul was that he, in fact, used his close association with the British colonial state/with the East India Company, in many ways, to become an Amil. This was recognized when he was given the official government position of Deputy Kardar (land revenue official) of Karachi. So Naomul’s relationship with the East India Company, in many ways, had little to do with being a traitor(a traitor to what, as I mentioned earlier, is a big question) but rather using and understanding the social hierarchies of his community to transform himself from exclusively being a Bhaiband and, increasingly, appropriating an Amil status.

Now, this attempt to invert the social hierarchies between Amils and Bhaibands, within the Lohana community, increasingly developed or encountered pushback from Amils, who were initially distanced because of their strong association with the Amirs’ states, as the Amirs states’ ‘officers of despotism’. The Company, ultimately, had a shift in priority in the 1840s away from a need to finance colonial expansion and, ergo, a relationship with wealthy Hindu traders like Naomul, and towards a need to administer a colonial state. And what you see during this time period of the 1840s through the 1850s is a shifting of alliances away by the colonial state and the East India Company away from Bhaibands, like Naomul, and towards the Amils. As the shift happened, it put Bhaibands, like Naomul and others, in a very awkward position where they, in fact, faced a backlash by Amils against Bhaibands for having stepped out of their social category and having tried to disrupt, or invert, the power relations between Amils and Bhaibands—by Bhaibands using their close association with the East India Company to essentially become Amils. What we see during this period are opportunities opening up for Bhaibands, as this sort of backlash is happening. Economic opportunities are opening up for Bhaibands in other parts of the British Empire. One of the things about being a citizen of the Empire is that you had the right to be able to travel and settle in different parts of the empire. So, you see the opening up of opportunities for Bhaibands in the British Empire at a time and place in which the emphasis and close relationship between Bhaibands and the British colonial state was shifting away from them (and away from the need to finance the British colonial state in Sindh) to the need to administer it, and a shift away from Bhaibands and a shift towards political alliances with Amils, reintegrating themselves into the structures of power administration in the post-annexation period. So you can actually sort of read the origins/beginning of the Sindhi diaspora (in the 18th century, or part of the diaspora in 18th century). Of course, Markovits has done some really wonderful work on this that sort of predates the middle of the 19th century.[xii] But you can peg it to this internal debate and attempt by Bhaibands to invert the social structures and hierarchies between them and Amils within the broader Lohana category. So, there is an actual profound relationship between conflict between various indigenous groups in Sindh, particularly the Amils and Bhaibands in the post-annexation period, and the expansion of the Sindhi diaspora staring in the middle of the 19th century.

Bhaibands and Sindhworkis
Who are the Sindhworkis and how do they relate to the social categories that I have been talking about today? So, Sindhworkis are, in fact, a type of Bhaiband. The Bhaibands, as I mentioned before, have historically rotated their sense of identity around a pursuit of capital power. Within that particularly social category, there was a hierarchy. A hierarchy based on wealth. At the higher end of the Bhaiband community, you had very wealthy financiers who were capitalists, if you will, involved in many different kinds of business, all the way down to, the local level, Bhaibands who were engaged in much smaller forms of capital behaviour, grain merchants for example. One of these smaller less affluent Bhaiband groups were individuals and families who took to trading in traditional Sindhi arts and crafts. Or what was called, by the British, ‘Sindhwork’. These were arts and crafts were not produced by ‘Hindus’ but by Muslim artisans in Sindh and were taken as a domain of economic trade which became dominated by a particular group of Bhaibands, who then subsequently got identified by the British and appropriated this terminology to talk about themselves as Sindhworkis. Some of the first Bhaiband groups to leave Sindh were, in fact, members of the Sindhworki groups who peddled and sold, in various retails and stores, various products of Sindh. And, as a result, some of the first members of the post-annexation Sindhi diaspora were these Bhaibands, called Sindhworkis, who went out to other parts of the British Empire which they could—now as citizens of the empire—now settle in in order to make and establish new lives for themselves following the annexation of Sindh and following the sort of rotting of internal relations between Bhaibands and Amils [that] I discussed earlier in the post-annexation period.

The first sort of Sindhis to migrate in this post-annexation period were not the large scale wealthy Bhaiband financiers. These, in fact, were lower groups of less affluent means. And this is, of course, a pattern of behaviour quite consistent across the British Empire in general. Many of the people involved—individuals involved in the expansion of the British Empire—in the settlement of the British Empire were not from the elite echelons of British society. Nor was this the fact with, for example, the Sindhis. Very few Amils, who considered themselves the elite strata of Sindhi society, initially took advantage of these opportunities of being citizens of empire to establish themselves in businesses in foreign locales: South East Asia, East Asia, Hong Kong, Singapore, Jakarta and places like this. So, this is a general sort of pattern that’s consistent with behaviour across the Empire, where you had Sindhworkis—who were lower echelon, less wealthy, and less well-off Bhaibands—taking the opportunity to migrate within the geography of the British Empire to establish and make new lives for themselves elsewhere, outside of their homeland. And, in many ways, this is consistent even with the behaviour of the British who came to South Asia themselves for similar reasons, to look for better opportunities. The colonizers who came to South Asia were often not the elite cream of British society. Same story as with Sindhworkis: they were Bhaibands, but not of the wealthy or high classes, be they Amils or the more wealthy Bhaibands who dominated trade and capital exchanges in colonial and pre-colonial Sindh.

Matthew A. Cook
Matthew A. Cook is Professor of South Asian and Postcolonial Studies at North Carolina Central University. His research focuses on the history and anthropology of South Asia as well as Sindh and colonialism.

Source: East India Company and the Growth of Sindhi Multinational Trade | Sahapedia

Cheers, Doc

Here is a report of a visit of an Dutch opium agent Swinton to the Opium producing area in 1824,

"..merchants such as Punnah Chand, Hurruck Chand and LallooBeyo, who purchase for the house of Bhoomanjee Hormusjee of Bombay, their case is widely different; they watched the market and the moment it fell under 60 Rs. …they purchased largely in every mart...; they are safe receiving a Commission, and their principal… the opium at rates that promise profit."

Their competition was the Marwadis of Malwa who were the traditional suppliers to the Mughals.

It was the parsi who supplied Opium to the Dutch in Mumbai port too.
 
Here is a report of a visit of an Dutch opium agent Swinton to the Opium producing area in 1824,

"..merchants such as Punnah Chand, Hurruck Chand and LallooBeyo, who purchase for the house of Bhoomanjee Hormusjee of Bombay, their case is widely different; they watched the market and the moment it fell under 60 Rs. …they purchased largely in every mart...; they are safe receiving a Commission, and their principal… the opium at rates that promise profit."

Their competition was the Marwadis of Malwa who were the traditional suppliers to the Mughals.

It was the parsi who supplied Opium to the Dutch in Mumbai port too.

Last I heard, Marwaris and Sindhis were Hindus, no?

Are we circling the same tree?

Or is your angst that the Hindus were top drug lords under the Mughals, and the Parsis unseated them under the British?

Cheers, Doc
 
Bottom line @Rivino.

Under the British, there was a drug war.

Hindu cartel. Parsi cartel. Muslim cartel.

Parsis pretty ruthlessly became the drug lords of most of Asia.

India. China. Hong Kong.

Don't cry now. About collaboration.

Because you Hindus did play. And came out second best.

Cheers, Doc

Parsis like the Marwadis before them make a fortune in drug trade but was by no means "drug lords".
 
Parsis like the Marwadis before them make a fortune in drug trade but was by no means "drug lords".

Bro, we owned most of Bombay and Hong Kong.

Ok dont call us drug lords.

Cheers, Doc
 
Last I heard, Marwaris and Sindhis were Hindus, no?

Are we circling the same tree?

Or is your angst that the Hindus were top drug lords under the Mughals, and the Parsis unseated them under the British?

Cheers, Doc

Marwadi opium merchants were mostly Jains not Hindus. It was the Jains who had a monopoly on sea trade.

That is why I had earlier said the Jains escaped scrutiny due to their low profile.

The Sindh trade was controled by their muslim king.
 
Marwadi opium merchants were mostly Jains not Hindus. It was the Jains who had a monopoly on sea trade.

That is why I had earlier said the Jains escaped scrutiny due to their low profile.

The Sindh trade was controled by their muslim king.

NO.

Read both my excerpts above.

I shall NOT read and highlight for you. I've already taken the pains to search out and paste here.

Though shalt not perform gymnastics .

Cheers, Doc
 
Bro, we owned most of Bombay and Hong Kong.

Ok dont call us drug lords.

Cheers, Doc

Bombay back then was a fishing village and so was Hong kong.

When they became mega cities, parsis lost control.

NO.

Read both my excerpts above.

Though shalt not perform gymnastics .

Cheers, Doc

I did read it. why would you assume otherwise ?
 
Bombay back then was a fishing village and so was Hong kong.

When they became mega cities, parsis lost control.



I did read it. why would you assume otherwise ?

Because its clear we are talking about the Hindu drug monopoly being beaten by the British using the Parsis. And of course, the Parsis using the British.

But why cry collaboration, when your side did the same under the Muslims?

Cheers, Doc
 
Arya Samaj is basically the revivalists of very ancient form of sanatan dharm that belived in yagya and vedas only its core belive was life is eternal and there is no idol worship or those karam kaand or sperstitions .... punjab was full of reformists arya samjis and there DAV schools

as for hinduism you are right oldest school of aethism is in sanatan dharm and its alos part of sanatan dharm so is those who worship shakti or shiv or vishnu in any of desired formas all are hindus cause be it shakti oo shiv or vishnu or bhrama they are all menifestion of one prime energy thats beyond time space and energy its eternal athst why its sanatan .... there is no such thing as HINDU RELIGION as cause sanatan dharm cannot be adjusted into abrahmik format of so called religion

Guruji Problem with some people on the thread is, they are allergic towards Sanatan Dharma and have selective Amnesia.

They do however overlook specific "SMRITI" written for this specific purpose how to reconvert people back to Hinduism.

1703586270276.png

1703586184428.png

Nobody takes effort to explain why Buddhism in India disappeared in thin Air after His-holy "Sankaracharya" defeated Mandan Mishra.

Neither they explain why Whole South-East Asia is filled with Hindu Mandirs. Or by the prevailing logic we can assume that Hinduism was default ethnic religion of South East Asia as well???

Neither we will be told Why Hinduism was prominent Religion in South East Asia before Islam.

This probing into unpleasant History dont weld with the popular narrative.

Just saying.
 
This drug debate, seems like everyone is a loser in this
 
This drug debate, seems like everyone is a loser in this

On the contrary it is very very very illuminative of the topic of the thread and the dance both sides played post Independence.

My father grew up with British and Anglo boys in boarding school .

It would have been ridiculously easy for the Parsis to move to England en masse after Independence. As the Anglos did.

We chose to stay here.

Cheers, Doc
 
Because its clear we are talking about the Hindu drug monopoly being beaten by the British using the Parsis. And of course, the Parsis using the British.

But why cry collaboration, when your side did the same under the Muslims?

Cheers, Doc

1. I just showed you that it was the Jains who supplied to the Muslims Mughals who had Financed the opium trade.

It was the Jain Malwa sahukars, merchants-financiers who financed the cultivators, multiplied their advances to the producers of Opium.

In 1818, a chest of Malwa opium sold in Canton for (Spanish) $680 as against $840 for a chest of 'Patna' opium.

The peasants in Malwa were paid three times as much for their crop as the cultivators in Bihar.

Difference is British had over lordship of Bengal following the Battle of Buxar in 1764 and hence monopoly on trade.

Point being the Marwadis restricted themselves to FINANCING the operation, never did the actual trading.

2. When the dutch was barred from trading via mumbai surat, the parsis took over the trade in partnership with EIC.
It was this european money that helped the parsi houses to purchase opium by outbidding the marwadis. Marwadis restricted themselves to financing, never actual trading.

3. The British took over the Marwadi financing after 1857 giving monopoly to parsis. You can guss why.

It is this monopoly which you claim as "victory" over Hindus. Though the Marwadi sahucars were Jains.


I am not sure what you are trying to prove ?

That parsis were better collaboraters to the british ?

That parsis are superior to the "Hindoos" ?

or that Parsis are somehow not responsible for the drug trade ?
 
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