The Dance by Barkha and Pavan

Ranu Singh Taragi

The onset of the monsoons is awaited eagerly by the tea growing belt and brings with it the promise of prosperity for the tea gardens. Tea bushes bloom, leaf count picks up and every department, right from field, factory and head office becomes extremely busy. The dry spell is over, there is an abundance of ‘patti’ and the engines in the factory hum, 24x7!

On the home front, the bungalows too gear up to offer hospitality to advisors, engineers and technical staff who visit from time to time in order to facilitate the smooth running of the estate. So this time also severely tests the culinary innovativeness of the ‘memsahibs.’ One knows only so many ways to serve seasonal veggies like ‘patals, jhinga, lauki…’ in exotic preparations! If you are fortunate to be closely located to a busy commercial town, the food choices are plenty. However, in remote areas, one has to turn into a ‘master chef.’ Planning out the daily menus at times like this becomes a major occupation. 

 Endless rain also brings in other problems peculiar to each district. We were once stationed on a tea garden adjacent to the Kaziranga Park. There the surrounding ‘basti’ gets totally cut off, due to water-logged,low-lying fields. The estate then brings out boats, to ferry the workers, to and fro, for daily work.

Areas in Cachar, close to the Bangladesh border, face storms which have cyclonic fury. The lightning flashes are blinding and thunder rocks the ground. In some instances, when a cyclone is expected from the Bay of Bengal, it travels inland bringing destruction. The weather department estimates the expected time of the storm and warns residents in advance. Sometimes loudspeaker announcements help to spread the word. We’ve witnessed this in the town of Silchar.

No matter how welcome the rain is for the tea, while the storm rages, ‘Barkha' and 'Pavan’s’ abandoned dance often results in roofs being ripped off, factory sheds collapsing and trees being twisted and thrust out of the way, by our star performers. So when peace returns, tea planters face the added work of supervising repair and relief work.

Our dog, Simba, felt safest here!

During our stay in Cachar we faced many such storms. At times like this, meals would be cooked in advance and all windows and doors secured. The bungalow staff would leave early so as to reach their own homes safely. The only person inside, besides us, would be an ‘indoors’ chowkidar, and he would then take charge of the kitchen.

In the year 1993, if I’m correct, we witnessed terribly severe rains. The downpour continued for days on end, resulting in floods. Bridges in the Kalchini and Hasimara area crashed, trees were uprooted, and  garden culverts overflowed so it became risky to cross them. Numerous villages along the embankment of the Toorsa and Basra rivers had to be evacuated in haste. Local schools shut down for a long period. Our children, who studied in Binnaguri’s St.James High School, missed classes for almost a month!

In this grim situation, life struggled to gain some normalcy. Each tea garden tried to function as best as it could, in spite of delays in the delivery of rations and other supplies. Of course, the weekly garden bazaar continued to be the highlight after each ‘wage day.’

We were living on Dalsingpara Tea Estate, in West Bengal. A couple of engineers sent down from Kolkata were staying in our bungalow, and I certainly wanted a happy and cheerful kitchen staff. I was also counting on Pramod, our cook, to do some vegetable shopping for our own kitchen, but as I listed our requirements, he heard me with a glum face. When I enquired, he shared his apprehensions regarding the payment day. First, he had to pay his contribution to some ‘local chanda’, which would be collected outside the office, (so there was no escaping it), secondly, he had to pay back a loan to a friend.

“Kya bachega bazaar ke liye,” he lamented gloomily. He headed to the garden office to collect his wages while I kept my fingers crossed, hoping that he’d be back in time for dinner preparations.

Though the rainfall had stopped, the sky was still heavily overcast. As I sipped a cup of tea in the ‘Jali Kamra’, I could imagine the weekly bazaar in the vast field behind the office. Small shops would have been set up under brightly coloured plastic awnings all around the area. The workers would splish-splash their way there happily, as they haggled over prices, for the whole area was still water-logged. Now and then, a louder babble of voices wafted over the cool dampness of the breeze.

A different sound reached my ears… the sound of a helicopter flying overhead. This was not unusual because the Hasimara Air Force Base was close by. Judging from the sound, it was quite low - probably due to the clouds. Reacting to the sighting of this flying machine, now louder, excited shouts could be heard.

A while later, Pramod returned. His countenance was totally transformed. Beaming from one ear to the other, he held aloft two bulging bags. The first one, I gathered, contained the vegetables for the bungalow kitchen. Eyeing the second bag, I commented that despite his misgivings regarding the wages, he seemed to have done well for his own home.

‘Arrey  memsahib, Bazar akash sae aya!’ (The shopping came from the sky.) He pulled out a couple of neatly tied packages, which mystified me. I sniffed the air to check if he was sober!

The explanation came later when the men came home from office. Packages containing relief items, puffed rice, biscuits etc. had indeed rained down from the sky. It transpired that the helicopter was out on a mission to drop off relief material in flood affected areas. Noticing the makeshift structures of our garden bazaar, it had mistaken it for a relief camp!! Hence the bombardment of supplies, much to the delight of the startled workers.

Many of the packets were salvaged by staff members and chowkidars, directed by the management. These were returned to the Air base for re-distribution to ‘genuine’ relief camps. However, quite a few of the workers rushed away with the packets! I guess a number of families munched on the goodies for dinner.

The rains continued unabated for a long period. Not all the damage could be set right completely. But for a long time, the sight and sound of an overhead helicopter made the residents of Dalsingpara glance up hopefully!

 In some instances, the dance by Barkha and Pavan can result in happy surprises!

 Editor's Note :

'Barkha' means rain, and it is also a name - a feminine name. 

'Pavan' means wind, and it is also a masculine name.
'patti' - tea leaf

‘patals, jhinga, lauki…’ - ivy gourd, ridge gourd and bottle gourd

'chanda' - money collected - often perforce - as subscription by unions and other groups

Meet the writer: Ranu Singh Taragi

Ranu Singh Taragi, with her husband Naresh

Ranu lives in Dehradun with her tea planter husband Naresh. They moved there after almost three decades in the tea gardens of Dooars and Assam. Ranu has been writing since her college days, and her stories for children have been published in 'Children's World' Magazine and the Hindustan Times. 

Read all Ranu's stories on Indian Chai Stories here: https://teastorytellers.blogspot.com/search/label/Ranu%20Singh%20Taragi  

Ranu wrote the first post on this blog, Freshly Brewed and Packaged Beautifully