Before the Stories Fade

How Vinay Harrichan is preserving Indo-Caribbean history, language and memory for future generations .

Written by: JOEY BARTLETT

As descendants of indentured labourers across Trinidad and Tobago mark Indian Arrival Day and honour the May 30, 1845 landing of the Fatel Razack, they celebrate a history that extends well beyond a single holiday. Yet as modern life accelerates and generations pass, many of the stories that shaped the Indo-Caribbean experience risk being lost. 

Trinidadian-born Floridian Vinay Harrichan, a 28-year-old software engineer, writer, and cultural researcher, is helping safeguard a legacy once carried almost entirely by word of mouth. Through Cutlass Magazine, he is documenting oral histories, language, and traditions that have been passed down through generations, transforming fragile memories into a lasting cultural archive. 

Founder of The Cutlass Magazine Vinay Harrichan.

The Spark Behind the Mission 

Harrichan's journey into cultural preservation began not in a university lecture hall but through personal loss. 

Growing up, he was drawn to the company of elders. While many of his peers spent their free time playing video games, Harrichan preferred sitting with parents and grandparents, listening to what he calls the "old talk", stories of village life, migration, family traditions, and customs that shaped the Indo-Caribbean experience. 

The importance of those conversations became painfully clear when he lost both of his grandmothers within a year during his mid-teens. 

"I realised how much is lost when our elders pass away," he recalls. "You never really think to write things down or document. It's only when those people have passed and you can't turn back time you realise how important those conversations are." 

The lesson extended far beyond the Indo-Caribbean community. It resonated equally with the descendants of enslaved Africans and First Peoples, whose histories, traditions, and lived experiences have often survived through oral storytelling rather than written records. 

For many indentured labourers, access to formal education was limited, leaving few written accounts of their lives. Instead, language, folklore, songs, healing practices, family histories, and cultural knowledge were carried from one generation to the next through memory and conversation. As elders pass away, much of that knowledge risks disappearing with them. 

For Harrichan, ensuring those stories endure became both a responsibility and a calling. 

Harrichan’s nana, Bisnath Jagdeo Ragoo, dressed in his jora-jama (tunic), pagri (turban), and maur (crown) on his wedding day, circa 1958–1959. His older brother stands at left, along with his sia-bala (wedding attendants/groomsmen who assist the groom during the ceremony).

The Philosophy of the Cutlass 

When he launched Cutlass Magazine in 2020, Harrichan chose a name that symbolised the connection between past and present. 

"The cutlass is something indentured labourers used in the cane fields," he explains. "Today we still use it around the home, whether it's cutting grass or opening a coconut. It's a historical relic that remains part of everyday life." 

The symbolism mirrors the magazine's mission. Rather than treating Indo-Caribbean culture as a museum piece, Harrichan presents it as a living tradition, one that continues to evolve while remaining firmly rooted in its history. 

What began as a social media project has grown into a respected platform connecting descendants of Indian indentureship across Trinidad and Tobago, Guyana, Suriname, Fiji, Mauritius, and other corners of the diaspora. 

A major focus of his work is language preservation. Harrichan has dedicated significant effort to documenting Bhojpuri, the ancestral language spoken by many indentured labourers. Distinct from the standard Hindi commonly associated with Bollywood films, Bhojpuri remains a vital but increasingly endangered part of Indo-Caribbean identity. 

By sharing Chutney songs alongside translations and cultural explanations, he helps younger generations understand the meanings embedded within the music and traditions they inherited. 

Harrichan’s par-nani (great-grandmother on his mother’s side), Boodia Ragoonansingh, a first-generation Trinidad-born Indo-Trinidadian. Born in the early 1910s in the former slave barracks on the Oropouche Estate in south Trinidad, she was orphaned at a young age. Her life reflects the resilience of a generation shaped by the transition from slavery to indentureship and the foundations of Indo-Trinidadian society.

Resistance Through Documentation 

For Harrichan, recording these stories is about more than preservation; it is an act of cultural resistance. 

He believes discussions about heritage often focus on festivals, performances, and public celebrations while overlooking the elders who remain living repositories of knowledge. 

"I feel like we're not really tapping into our older generation of folks who are still alive. We don't engage with our older heads enough." 

That belief shapes his approach to research. Rather than entering communities as an academic observer, Harrichan approaches elders as family and trusted confidants. 

Using familiar honorifics such as nana, nani, mausi, and pua, he builds relationships rooted in respect and genuine curiosity. The result is a level of trust that often reveals stories and perspectives others struggle to access. 

"There are a lot of people who tell me they learn more about their own grandparents from hearing their grandparents talk to me." 

Through those conversations, Harrichan has documented everything from migration histories and caste memories to linguistic traditions and cultural practices rarely found in formal historical records. 

Harrichan's nani (maternal grandmother), Parbatie Maltie Ragoonanansingh, on her wedding day, circa 1958–1959, pictured with her mother and nine sibling.

Building a Permanent Archive 

As Cutlass Magazine has grown, Harrichan has begun looking beyond the limitations of social media. 

The fast-moving nature of digital platforms, with their algorithms, trends, and character limits, is not designed for long-term preservation. To address this, he is developing a dedicated website that will house expanded research, translated songbooks, interviews, and historical resources. 

He has also collaborated with the University of the West Indies (UWI) and consulted on film and cultural projects, helping ensure Indo-Caribbean history reaches wider audiences through exhibitions, documentaries, and academic initiatives. 

Balancing this work with a full-time career in software engineering is demanding, but Harrichan remains motivated by a simple reality: many of the people carrying this knowledge will not be here forever. 

"That generation of old ladies who wear their orhnis and have a tattoo on their arm: they will all be gone in the next twenty years," he says. "There's nothing we can do about that. But I'd like the legacy of Cutlass Magazine to be that those people passed away, and the magazine preserved those customs from disappearing with them." 

Official logo of Cutlass Magazine, founded in 2020 by Vinay Harrichan to preserve and celebrate Indo-Caribbean history, language, and culture.

A Legacy of Mindfulness 

Perhaps the most compelling aspect of Harrichan's work is it seeks to preserve not only information but also values. 

One tradition he often references is 'dui bat karuke pata turi', the practice of speaking a few kind words to a tree before plucking a leaf. Passed down by his grandmothers, the custom reflects a worldview rooted in gratitude, mindfulness, and respect for all living things. 

"You're taking a life, you're taking a soul in a way," Harrichan explains. "To pause for a moment, reflect, and be kind and meditative: that speaks to a richness and kindness in the culture I always try to remember." 

For him, traditions like these reveal dimensions of Indo-Caribbean heritage that cannot be captured by dates and historical records alone. They offer a philosophy of living that remains relevant in an increasingly fast-paced world. 

As he continues expanding his work, Harrichan hopes to inspire others to become archivists of their own family histories. 

"I don't want it to just be me and five other people," he says. "I want more and more people to get involved and be encouraged to pick up this line of work." 

In an era of rapid cultural change, Harrichan believes preserving history is not solely the responsibility of institutions or academics. It begins around kitchen tables, on verandas, and in conversations with elders whose memories carry the weight of generations. 

By documenting those voices, he is helping ensure the Indo-Caribbean story is not lost to time, but carried forward, celebrated, and shared with future generations.