My family’s ties to Polish refugees in India during World War 2
Polish refugees at wedding of Mary (Jennifer Mirza’s aunt) to Vincent Coelho. (c) Jennifer Mirza.
By Jennifer Mirza*
Last month I was fortunate to be invited for a screening of My Home India, held at the Polish Consulate in Mumbai. It is about the extraordinary life of Kira Banasinska, (1899-2002) made by the Mumbai based activist and filmmaker Anjali Bhushan. I was also eager to see the film since I have several personal connections to the story.
Kira was the wife of the first Polish Consul posted in 1931 to what was then called Bombay. And the first few years of that diplomatic posting were filled with the usual social engagements that members of the diplomatic corps get immersed in.
But once World War II broke out, life for Kira changed dramatically, especially after her home country Poland was invaded and occupied by Nazi Germany, in collusion with the Soviet Union, in 1939. In 1941, the Soviet Union switched sides, joining forces with the Allies to fight the fascists. This prompted them to release an estimated 250,000 Polish men, women and children they had exiled to forced labor camps in Siberia and the Far East. The freed Poles went to the U.K, U.S., Iran, India and other parts of the World.
As a child and young girl, Kira lived in Siberia. Her Polish father was an engineer working on the construction of the Trans-Siberian Railway. Kira graduated from a university in Siberia as a mining engineer.
When her husband got news of Polish prisoners being set free in Siberia, with no assistance to make their way home or to any other part of the world, Kira got to work. She joined the global efforts to transport them to any country that would accept them, since returning to Nazi-occupied Poland was not an option.
In addition, working as a member of the Red Cross, and following an agreement with the British who then ruled India, Kira helped organize several bus and truckloads of Polish refugees to travel by land to India, via Iran.
One of the first groups, totaling about 500 orphans, were sent to Nawanagar, now known as Jamnagar, in Western India. The Jam Sahib, local King, built a camp where the orphans were housed and fed; he also set up a school for their education. Kira helped transport several more Polish families to Kolhapur, India. The local Maharaja too built a camp for the men, women and children – totaling about 5,500.
After the end of the Second World War in 1945, most of the Polish refugees left India for Poland and other countries. But Kira and her husband stayed on in Bombay. They devoted their lives to helping the marginalized, the differently abled and orphans. When her husband died, Kira moved from Bombay to Hyderabad.
Anjali Bhushan’s My Home India recreates Kira’s efforts as well as the lives of the Polish refugees in India, through interviews given by Kira and several survivors of the camps as well as archived photographs, documents and other material.
In addition to her welfare work, Kira started a company in India producing educational materials for the Montessori system of education. Her grandson, who was present at the film screening in Mumbai last month, laughingly said that while she wasn’t much of a business woman, she managed to keep herself going. Kira passed away in 2002.
In the 1940’s, my maternal grandfather, Francis Xavier Saldanha, was the Conservator of Forests in Kolhapur. He was asked by the Maharaja of Kolhapur to set up a camp for the Polish Refugees in Vilvade.
Bhushan’s documentary has photographs of the Vilvade camp. It also has interviews with surviving refugees, many of whom later visited Kolhapur as tourists. The refugees, who were children at the time they lived in the camp, recall fond memories of a pleasant place: a set of compact but comfortable houses, with a little garden in the front and back of each home.
My grandfather’s youngest daughter, my Aunt Mary, got married to Vincent Coelho, an officer in the Indian Administrative Service. The wedding took place in Kolhapur in April 1945.
Like all Indians, aunt Mary would have liked a large gathering for her special day. But because of restrictions during the war, only three of her siblings, her husband’s mother, brother and sister and my dad and brother David could travel from Mumbai and Mangalore to attend the wedding. Undaunted, my grandfather invited all the Polish refugees in the camp to the wedding and reception.
Last month, I went to the Mumbai screening of My Home India with a copy of aunt Mary’s wedding photo to surprise Anjali Bhushan, the film maker, and the Polish Consul. As can be seen from the photo, most of those at the wedding were not Indian - they were Polish men and women; and children, dressed in their national costume, form a garland in front of the bridal couple. Also in the front row, is my then 4-year-old brother David, who all through my childhood boasted that he traveled “abroad” to attend the wedding.
Whenever the film turned to archival footage, I would scan the shots to see if I could spot my grandfather. To no avail. He must have been a typical bureaucrat, sitting at his desk or staying in the background.
We have an apartment in Goa, India, where we spend part of the year. One of our neighbors was the late Roger Smith, an Indian from Kolkata who had retired from a job in the U.K. Some years ago, he invited his Polish ex-wife to visit Goa.
One night during our conversation, over dinner at Smith’s apartment, I told his ex-wife that my grandfather ran the Polish Refugee Camp in Kolhapur. She was thrilled to hear this since her mother spent several years in that camp; the family then moved to England.
In 1988, Aunt Mary — whose marriage in Kolhapur was filled with Polish well-wishers — passed away in Mumbai. After a week, her daughter Meera, who lives in Delhi, requested me to collect the death certificate from the undertaker Edward Jones in Byculla.
When I visited the funeral home on Clare Road, I noticed a coffin being readied, which had an inscription on the cover in a language that I could not recognize. Jones explained that it was Polish.
So, did some unfortunate seaman die in Mumbai’s port? I asked. No, Jones answered, with a sad smile, “it’s for my mother-in-law.” He said, “she came to India during World War 2 as a young girl and lived in the Polish Refugee camp in Kolhapur.”
Fact is indeed stranger than fiction.
After the screening, during the question-and-answer session, I could not resist narrating my personal links to the documentary. While I spoke, the wife of the Polish Consul in Mumbai held aloft the wedding picture of my Aunt Mary and Uncle Vincent. The audience burst into a long round of applause — I am sure for my grandfather, and not for me.
Finally, Anjali Bhushan understood why I was so excited about her invitation to see My Home India.**
*Jennifer Mirza, based in Mumbai, retired as a researcher and production manager of Hindi feature films and documentaries. She earned an M.A. in Sociology from Bombay University and a B.A. from St. Xavier’s College, Mumbai. A version of this article and the photo will be part of an archive in Poland documenting the lives of Polish refugees in India.
**My Home India will be shown at the Bagri Foundation London India Film Festival, September 18-30, 2021.
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