Azaadi ka Din : An Independence Day Story

by Ipsita Sengupta

Well I just can't let Independence Day pass by without writing about Jimma.

Jimma, the hero of the day. He loved his snazzy glittery dazzling green shirts which were always missing a few buttons, and his huge combat boots. I always wondered whose hand me downs those boots were. Now couple that attire with shiny dark brown skin, a prominent hunch and an ever grinning face displaying a row of betel stained teeth and you can almost see him. His primary job was to look after the cows. I vividly remember him carrying two steel buckets brimming with milk in the mornings headed towards the house, cutting through the flowers beds, intent on his mission. He made sure he got the milk in the house, freshly delivered courtesy of Hope and Lalee, our jersey cows. Yes, they had names and no, they weren't named by us. We didn't have the pleasure of picking names but we did have them for a number of years, serving us more milk than we would ever consume. 

Now back to my original story. Independence Day started like it  always did every year in the gardens. I tagged along with Bapi for the flag hoisting, far more excited about the snacks which would follow the event. It was a bright sunny day with one dark cloud hovering. Jimma had decided not to show up for work! Not surprising at all, as he often decided to disappear. 

The rumour was he’d gone on a bender, indulging in a little too much of the coveted country liquor called Hariya.  Hariya was an integral part of everyone's lives in the garden - the workers, as they frequently imbibed and continued to come to work, and the others who had to wait and watch them swaying and wondering how long they would hold up. Well, Jimma did not show up all morning, drunk or sober. Mamma fretted all morning about her poor cows but he still didn't show.

Just as the sun was setting on the horizon and the sky turned a lovely shade of orangey pink I looked up. I saw a man with a glittering green shirt flying in the wind walking up towards the verandah. I wasn’t sure whether the wind made him sway or whether it was his head spinning. His combat boots did not help steady him one bit while he zigzagged his way to the verandah. 

Mamma looked on in astonishment while Jimma stood in front of us, swaying and stinking up a storm.  

Jimma saluted smartly and said, ‘Jai Hind!’

 Mamma squeaked, ‘But why are you here in the evening?’

Jimma grinned, speaking a little too loudly, ‘Memsahib aaj azaadi ka din hai, isliye meh sab gai log ko azaadi dey diya!’ ( Memsahib, it is Independence Day! So  I have set all the cows free! )

Mamma and I ran past him to the opening where we could clearly see the cows running free and wild in the evening sun.  I turned around to see Jimma curled up in the verandah, fast asleep, having set his world free.

Meet the writer:

Ipsita Sengupta introduces herself: 'I was born to AJOY and DOLA in the gardens of North Bengal, and lived there till I was 18. Working in finance in New York city for the past decade. Sister to a kickass writer, SANCHITA and married to my soul mate and best friend ARIJIT. Love books,movies, dogs, travelling and food in no particular order.'
This Cha ka baby wrote us two stories with slightly scary twists in them: 'Bhaaku the Barber' here -- https://teastorytellers.blogspot.com/2018/03/bhaaku-barber.html
and 'The Wrong Car' here --
https://teastorytellers.blogspot.com/2018/03/the-wrong-car.html

 Is this your first visit here?  Welcome to Indian Chai Stories!
If you've ever visited a tea garden or lived in one, or if you have a good friend who did, you would have heard some absolutely improbable stories!
You will meet many storytellers here at Indian Chai Stories, and they are almost all from the world of tea gardens: planters, memsaabs, baby and baba log. Each of our contributors has a really good story to tell - don't lose any time before you start reading them!

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My name is Gowri Mohanakrishnan and I'm a tea planter's wife. I started this blog because one of the things that I wouldn't want us to lose in a fast changing world is the tea story - a story always told with great seriousness, no matter how funny - always true( always ), maybe a tall tale, long, or short, impossible, scary, funny or exciting but never dull.