SAGA of Andaman

The Andamans, for centuries, stood as a silent witness to the tide of empires and exiles. Today, exploring the island’s colonial past offers more than a glimpse into forgotten chapters of history—it provides insight into a land shaped by both survival and transformation.

Long before European ships docked at these shores, the Andaman Islands were home to some of the world’s most isolated and resilient indigenous communities. The Great Andamanese, Onge, Jarwa, and Sentinelese had lived here for tens of thousands of years, surviving through hunting, gathering, and an intimate relationship with nature. Their knowledge systems were oral, their territories unmarked by borders, and their ways of life, untouched by the world beyond the horizon.

Archaeological and genetic evidence suggests human presence in these islands for over 30,000 years, possibly among the earliest human migrations out of Africa. Their isolation preserved a unique cultural identity—one that would soon be threatened by the arrival of outsiders.

The colonial encounter began in earnest in the late 18th century when the British East India Company eyed the Andamans for strategic purposes. In 1789, the first British settlement was established at Port Blair, though it was soon abandoned due to disease and logistical failures. It wasn,t until 1858—following the Indian Rebellion of 1857—that the British returned with determination.

They saw the islands not just as a naval outpost but also as an ideal site for a penal colony. The remoteness of the archipelago made it the perfect prison without walls. For the British, the Andamans offered a way to isolate political dissenters from the mainland—a place to exile, punish, and erase.

Perhaps the most potent symbol of the colonial encounter is the Cellular Jail, or ‘Kala Pani.’ Constructed over ten years and completed in 1906, the prison was designed with solitary confinement at its core. Each of its

Freedom fighters such as Batukeshwar Dutt, Veer Savarkar, and countless unnamed revolutionaries were incarcerated within its grim walls. Here, they faced forced labor, physical torment, and psychological degradation. The name ‘Kala Pani’ became synonymous with a sentence worse than death—a crossing that not only severed one from the homeland but from all social and spiritual ties.

Today, the Cellular Jail stands restored as a national memorial. Its stark corridors echo with stories of sacrifice and resistance, offering visitors a powerful lens into the brutal machinery of colonial power.

While the British tightened their grip through prisons and settlements, the indigenous peoples of the Andamans bore the brunt of the colonial presence. Forests were cleared, diseases introduced, and contact with outsiders proved catastrophic. The Great Andamanese population, estimated at several thousand in the 19th century, dwindled to mere dozens by the 20th.

Despite this, resistance was not uncommon. There are records of fierce confrontations between the Jarwas and British settlers, who often underestimated the islanders & knowledge of the terrain. These communities were not passive victims—they adapted, retreated, or resisted in their own ways, even if history has largely silenced their voices.

The island’s colonial history took another dramatic turn during World War II. In 1942, the Japanese forces occupied the Andamans, expelling the British and briefly administering the territory. For the first time, the Indian National Army (INA), under Subhas Chandra Bose, raised the Indian flag on Indian soil here—though this moment of symbolic liberation came amid reports of civilian suffering and political complexity.

Following the war, the islands were returned to British control, but the winds of change were unmistakable. By 1947, India gained independence, and the Andamans—once a penal outpost—began a new chapter as part of a sovereign republic.

From March 1942 to October 1945, the Japanese occupation of the Andaman and Nicobar Islands brought a new and brutal chapter to the islands’ history. Though initially perceived by some as liberators from British rule, the Japanese administration quickly revealed a darker reality. The civilian population, particularly in Port Blair, suffered under military rule marked by forced labor, food shortages, torture, and public executions.

The Japanese Kempetai (military police) established a regime of surveillance and repression, often targeting those suspected of collaborating with the British or resisting their control. Many locals, including members of the Indian Independence League, were imprisoned, tortured, or killed. Several documented massacres remain etched in local memory as stark reminders of this violent period.

The brief visit by Subhas Chandra Bose in December 1943, during which he symbolically renamed the islands Shaheed (Martyr) and Swaraj (Self-rule), offered a glimmer of nationalist aspiration—but the day-to-day realities for the islanders remained harsh and oppressive under Japanese rule.