The story of the rural Indian poor being transported overseas to serve the capitalist and imperial interests of the French, Dutch and English is a shameful chapter in modern history.  Though millions of Bihari and Bengalis (mainly, though Tamilians and Telugu speakers were also affected) spent their lives in indentured servitude to the sugar barons of the Caribbean, Fiji Islands and Mauritius, their history remains largely unknown to the average Indian.

After the Napoleonic wars, Britain acquired the Reunion Islands and Mauritius from the vanquished French. The new owners of these islands off the coast of east coast of Africa set about carving out a specialised economic niche for their lush possessions: transport hub.  The goods being transported in and out of Mauritius were not agricultural or industrial projects but coolies from the Bhojpuri-speaking areas of India’s northern plains. Though records indicate that the very first Indians arrived in the country in the very first decade of the 19th century, the trade really flourished between 1834 and 1923, when it finally ceased.

Unlike immigrants to the US whose eyes caught the inspirational Statue of Liberty before they landed, the first structure the bewildered Indians saw when they finally set foot on terra firma was the Aapravasi Ghat (Immigration Depot). In this building, millions of Indians were registered, photographed and transported on to other sugar producing parts of the British Empire as indentured labourers.  In time, as the sugar industry expanded, many were hired out to local French and English plantation owners in Mauritius itself. From about 1860 on, Indians have been the largest cultural group in the country. Today, they  account for nearly 70% of the population.

Though part of their indenture agreements included the right to return to India after completing their period of service, few did. Most stayed on, either as small farmers and traders, intermarrying with the local and other immigrant populations (the Chinese) and over time developed unique variants of diaspora desi culture.  Unlike in Fiji, where the Indian community lives in a largely separate cultural space, the Indo-Mauritian community has been assimilated into and embraced the Creole culture.  And out of that blending of African, indigenous, Chinese, French and English cultures came a couple genres of music known as maloya and sega.

Vivacious dance music

Maloya, the earlier form and roughly equivalent to a folk music, echoes with the deep roots of its African origins. It is still very popular in Reunion.  Over time, especially in the early 20th century, the music began to shift from work songs and serious folk themes to a dance music that avariciously absorbed sounds, instruments and beats from all quarters. Built on the interplay of several traditional instruments, ravanne (goatskin drum), the triangle and maravanne (rattle/shaker), the music is largely sung in Creole, though Bhojpuri and some English has been accepted to some extent.  Like its not-so-different cousin, chutney/soca, in the West Indies, the lyrics are light and often sexualised.

Afro and Indo-Mauritians alike perform the music, both interspersing Bhojpuri phrases or referencing Indian themes without any consideration of the original culture. Sega is a spontaneous music, used to get people dancing and apropos to such forms, "anything goes" is the motto.  Let’s take a look at some of this island hipshaking music.

Sylvain Kaleecharan
Pren Sa Par


This video sums up the attraction of island life in four minutes flat. Sunshine, fun, sexual tension and loping rhythms aplenty. Sylvain Kaleecharan is a good example of the essential Creole identity of the Mauritians. French first name with a Hindu family name, singing in French Creole with nary a reference to the old country of his forebears. A simple line from a guitarist who clearly understands the principle of leadership, cheered on by a stuttering swaying accordion make this song a real treat.

Ino Nakeed
Prem Chopra


Now I wonder Prem Chopra knows that he is a cult musical figure in faraway Mauritius. Ino Nakeed, one of the more colorful sega artists, who clearly has his own cinematic aspirations picturises this song about my (and millions of other fans’) favorite Bollywood villain. If only I understood Creole. I’m dying to know: is he taking the great man’s name in vain or holding him up as role model? The lady dancers in their abundant flowing frocks are a central feature of sega music shows, adding drama, beauty and sexuality to the already passionate mix.

Claudio Veeraragoo
Bhai Aboo


Claudio Veeraragoo, or simply Claudio, is one of the sega’s big stars and Bhai Aboo an evergreen hit both at home and in the diaspora. Sung entirely in Creole (with the exception of “aarey baba meri do” popping up in the middle) seems to tell the story of a certain Bhai Aboo who is not feeling well and taken off to the l’hopital for further action. Given the inherent naughtiness of sega lyrics one is probably safe to assume that the lyrics are full of multiple entendre.

Bhojpuri Boys
Baigun Bagee


Kishore Taucoory and Kunal Baboolall are the Bhojpuri Boys. Singing exclusively in the Mauritianised version of Bhojpuri, this hugely popular duo is probably the most India-focused of the sega groups. Though they keep the necessary driving sega beat, in this track the tabla and electrified harmonium add a distinctly desi feel to the song. As to the lyrics, well you decide what they mean: karela coming in from the top/karela coming in from below.

Gavin
Jhoot Mat Bolo


A fast-moving Hindi/Creole/English admonition to a lover to tell the truth seems to be pushing the boundary of the music towards seggae, an offshoot of sega which blended probably the most famous island dance music from Jamaica, reggae into the local rhythms. The male refrain "jhoot mat bolo/muh band karo" conjures up similar sounds from the UK mega group UB40.