The warm humid days
of Assam were upon us and the tea garden was flushing happily with timely
rain. Nonetheless, ominous recollections of the previous year’s massive crop
loss, inflicted by a devastating attack from ‘looper caterpillars’*, was still looming
menacingly to haunt me with a paranoidal fear of its return. It was motivation
enough to put in place every known practice to preempt another such occurrence.
Accordingly, my newly appointed Assistant Manager, Sajjan** was briefed, in
some detail, of this lurking danger and instructed to keep his eyes open for
the smallest sign of the caterpillar’s presence anywhere in the division.
A word about Sajjan
would be appropriate here. If he did possess a semblance of sophistication in
his bearing, it remained sufficiently camouflaged in the apparently robust
exterior of a bucolic milk and ghee addict from environs of Panipat/Kurukshetra
in the heart of Haryana! Brimming with energy, Sajjan dashed about the division
like an ‘eager beaver’, prompting me to keep my eye on him.
The weather gods were
benign this year, bestowing upon us frequent showers. With good rain the night
before, that Monday dawned bright with high humidity; perfect for tea. The much
awaited ‘second flush’ was now getting tantalizingly close. I felt cautiously
optimistic in my drive around the estate after breakfast. My mind wandered
fleetingly to the previous evening at the club and the momentary view I had had
of Sajjan’s leg being pulled (in good humour, but rather mercilessly) by the other
youngsters in one distant corner. Not knowing what it was all about, I thought
no more of it.
The estate road I was
now driving on had been cut through and built below the level of the tea
sections on its either side. With the tea being higher and out of view, one
needed to climb up from the road for access to these sections. A labour
line at the back of the section formed the boundary.
My unhurried drive
down this road with growing optimism in mind was suddenly interrupted by
the sound of tribal drums. I was intrigued. I had not been informed
of any wedding that was to take place in the nearby labour line that day. And
it seemed very unlikely for a drunken labourer to be celebrating loudly at this
time of the morning. The sound of drumming, however, seemed real enough and
coming from somewhere in the direction of the labour line. The strange
incidence warranted investigation. I stopped and climbed up to the tea section
from where I thought the sound was emanating.
And there before me was,
to say the least, a baffling sight. About fifteen or twenty children aged
around ten to twelve were slowly walking through the tea and peering into the
bushes with great concentration. Solemnly following the kids were two seedy men
with tribal drums resonating loudly from all the beating they were getting from
these individuals! Our ‘Eager Beaver’, looking intense, was walking behind
them. With increasing disbelief, I watched this ludicrous cameo being played
out before me.
Finally recovering, I
yelled for the drummers to stop the shenanigans and called out for
Sajjan to meet me. I demanded an explanation on his arrival, and an unfazed Sajjan
replied with some conviction that he was only trying to catch looper
caterpillars that might have been lurking inside the tea bushes.
“And how would you have done that?” I asked, holding back my rising anger. And with his reply, the episode in the club the night before unfolded explaining all.
“And how would you have done that?” I asked, holding back my rising anger. And with his reply, the episode in the club the night before unfolded explaining all.
Apparently, that evening Sajjan was
voicing to his friends the concern of another possible looper
attack in the estate. Hearing this, his two pals quickly hatched up a plot.
With straight faces, they advised Sajjan that the easiest and most effective
way to control looper attacks was to get into the section of tea with a tribal
drum and beat it hard and loud. The sound of the drum beats, claimed the boys,
would lure the caterpillars hiding inside the bush to climb right out and up
to the open surface. Being clearly visible here, they would be easily picked
off and put away and the diabolic attack crushed forever – never to return!
Craftily lured in
thus by his pals, ‘Eager Beaver’ swallowed the prank hook, line and sinker!
*Looper Caterpillars
attack the tea bush and devour the leaves voraciously at incredible speed, stripping it bare if not controlled in time. The attack in Borjuli (a year
before this story) was endemic and horrifyingly devastating. Thankfully, all
the precautionary measures we took following the attack ensured the
caterpillars’ complete disappearance.
Eager Beaver’s method
was never tried again!
**Name changed for
the reason of privacy
Meet the writer: Aloke Mookerjee
Here's what Aloke has to say about himself : 'Long retired from tea, but still active in business. Even after all these years, tea remains to live strongly in my thoughts; they were the best years of my life. Other interests? Always loved Jazz music - still do and have written about this incredible genre. Love vintage airplanes (thus my love for Dakotas!) and cars, and intend to make this my next focus.' Aloke's also written A Spiritual Encounter, Gillanders and the Greenhorn and Unto the Unknown for Indian Chai Stories.
Meet the writer: Aloke Mookerjee
Here's what Aloke has to say about himself : 'Long retired from tea, but still active in business. Even after all these years, tea remains to live strongly in my thoughts; they were the best years of my life. Other interests? Always loved Jazz music - still do and have written about this incredible genre. Love vintage airplanes (thus my love for Dakotas!) and cars, and intend to make this my next focus.' Aloke's also written A Spiritual Encounter, Gillanders and the Greenhorn and Unto the Unknown for Indian Chai Stories.
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!
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, or long, short, impossible, scary, funny or exciting but never dull.
Do you have a chai story of your own to share?
Send it to me here, please : indianchaistories@gmail.com.
The blog is updated every two to three days. You will find yourself transported into another world!
Happy reading! Cheers to the spirit of Indian Tea!
Gowri
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!
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, or long, short, impossible, scary, funny or exciting but never dull.
Do you have a chai story of your own to share?
Send it to me here, please : indianchaistories@gmail.com.
The blog is updated every two to three days. You will find yourself transported into another world!
Happy reading! Cheers to the spirit of Indian Tea!
Gowri
5 comments:
Similar story, a colleague of my father a practical joker was teaching a fresh Assistant to spot mites. He told him that the easiest way to spot mites was to hold the leaf to one's ears and listen carefully. The mites make a keech keech screeching sound. The newbie took it hook, line and sinker.
Barring the one honest broker, the community is far too silent! Either they've been there done that: ergo a guilty conscience; or worse, had it done to them: ergo that sinking sheepish feeling!
Enjoyed the read as usual...thank you!
Thank you too!
Enjoyed that. Thank you!
Very enjoyable read.
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