From Town to Tea

by Ranu Singh Taragi

I looked out of the window of the Mahindra jeep with astonishment, as we rolled past, mile after mile of a level table of greenery. Amazing how so much effort must have been put in to result in this sea of bonsais ! Father, who sat in front beside the driver, commented now and then about the areas we crossed. The words he used didn’t make much sense to me… ‘shade trees…jabra undergrowth… cheeling….pruning…second flush…’   as this was my first visit to the tea country. I was content to share the back seat with Mother who looked happy and relaxed after our long trip from Dehradun. I shifted closer to her, to soak in some of her happiness.

I was born in Dehradun and spent my initial years in Doon Valley, along with Mother, my elder sister and brother. Father was working on some faraway tea estate and visited for short holidays. Mother did join him for brief periods on the garden, but  such occasions were rare. School activities and exam schedules kept us tied to the town. Now, the older children were busy in college and as for me, the serious business of board exams etc. was light years away. Mother decided that we could close up the house and spend as much time as we wished on the tea garden. So here we were….

The garden in Cachar was indeed far away. We had started off in a taxi from Doon the previous day, reaching Delhi after a drive of six hours. The next morning we reported to the airport early,  as Mother was a bit jittery and wanted the boarding procedure to go smoothly. We were to travel by the Jet Airways Boeing upto Guwahati. From there on Father would take charge and drive us to the Estate. I had overheard Mother telling a relative that it would take us close to ten hours to reach the bungalow! This didn’t bother me one bit as I love long drives.

This was to be my first trip by air and Mother was quite concerned. She wanted me to be relaxed and calm throughout. So, as advised by our family doctor, she made me swallow a biscuit dipped in Benadryl Cough Syrup for children, just before we reached Indira Gandhi Airport. Thereon, I felt totally mellow, and enjoyed the entire checking-in etc. I noticed other passengers looking at me fondly. Must be due to my cute looks for Mother had spruced me up and made me put on my new red checked coat. After all we’d be meeting Father after some months. For some reason my seat was not close to where Mother sat but I was quite happy and comfortable in my own space…the air conditioning and air pressure was perfect.

The plane was on schedule and about two and a half hours later we disembarked in Guwahati. I was thrilled to get a huge cuddle from Father. Once the luggage and all was organised, we started off in the Jeep without any delay. The road to Shillong  is uphill and I had to sit firm, so as to not lose my balance.

Our lunch halt was in at a small roadside dhaba, perched on a hill. Father had decided that a formal meal in some bigger restaurant would delay our travel . It was a terrific choice. I shared a plate of steaming hot noodles topped with a tomato sauce, glistening through which were chunks of crunchy vegetables. Cool moist clouds floated past, whisking away the curls of steam from our plate. I was hardly ever served such food, plus I was quite hungry and ate greedily.

The next stop was to stretch our legs and sip some tea, again by the roadside. It was dusk by then. A crowd of people stood surrounding the television in one shop, looking anxious. The driver went to enquire and came back with a solemn face. There had been a massive earthquake tremor in the evening. There were reports that serious damage had occurred in the area of Kalimpong. The army was involved in the rescue work but night had fallen so progress was hampered.

The road on which we were travelling had extremely potholed stretches, so we had not felt anything amiss. We were subdued as we carried on with the drive. It was dark outside and I decided to take a long nap. Hours later, I awoke to the sound of loud shouts. Squinting through the windscreen, I saw tall black gates swinging open, then a number of men running up to the vehicle. The whole area was well lit and with relief I noted that the men were smiling and offering ‘Salaams’ to Father and Mother. Clearly we had reached the estate!

A lot of fuss was made over me as well. I was served warm milk with bread. The bungalow was huge, with any number of rooms, but Mother insisted that my bed be arranged in their ‘palang kamra,’ under her instructions. Whew! A relief. I didn’t know my way about  this monstrous place yet and one has heard of so many ‘ghost stories'. No Sir…I didn’t want to bump into any such apparition. Not now..not ever.

The next morning as Mother sat in the jali kamara with her mid-morning cup of tea, I stayed close because the biscuits on the trolley smelt fabulously fresh. Staring out at the lawns, I saw a whole bevy of men sickling the grass. Clearly, these guys didn’t believe in lawn mowers! All of a sudden a cute snow white lamb came into view. It looked lost and rushed about in confusion. It was too hard to resist and I ran out to console it. Too my surprise, it bleated in terror and picked up speed.

Mother screamed at the men, asking them to intervene, ‘Oh my God! Pick him up.’ One lanky fellow cut across the driveway and naturally I thought he’d try and save the little lamb. But what was this? A heavy weight almost pounded me to the gravel and the lad struggled to lift  “ME” aloft. Foolish fellow! We fell flat while the lamb escaped behind a mussaenda shrub.

It was irritating to be carried indoors again. Alright, exploring the grounds would have to be postponed for another time. But - for no reason at all - I was now sneezing non-stop! Everyone was perplexed, and nothing soothed me. It was only when Father came home for an important file that the mystery was solved. Some lukewarm saline water was squirted up my nose and seconds later, a plump leech wriggled out!

My hair raising adventures continued. Two afternoons later, I went up to a baby boar which must have wandered in from the forest close by. I am a friendly sort of being and  meant no harm, but the little creature thought otherwise. It hopped high up, and dealt me a mean swipe across my nose! I ran howling with pain and Mother had to apply ointments to heal the scratch.

The next few days, I looked out from the jali kamara which felt safe. Here I was , from the city. Clearly I would have to step cautiously in these new surroundings! At times I missed the city with its air pollution, noise pollution and garbage dumps, where friendlier pigs and stray animals lived. It was clear that animals in and around the tea garden were “phutani.” In other words..not so friendly.

Then just as I was feeling lonely and sad,  a movement caught my eye. Something moved under the jeep parked in the bungalow porch.  A furry brown dog lay there, peeping at me. Must have come from the labour quarters close by. At last , things were picking up. Looked like I had a playmate after all.

Duke riding on a bus in London

Jumping up, I wagged my own tail furiously and signalled that I was game to some exploring but before I could run forward to meet my new friend , I heard Mother’s voice calling my name, “Duke? DUKE, come here…”  Oh oh! She must have woken up from her afternoon nap.

Never mind , the next adventure on the tea garden could wait for another day.

Meet the writer

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. Have you read all Ranu's stories here on Indian Chai Stories? The Elephants Come Calling: Tumtumpara Tea Estate, 
 The Lord of the Garden Gypsy, The Dance by Barkha and Pavan and Freshly Brewed and Packaged Beautifully (which was the first post to go up here on 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!
Do you have a chai story of your own to share? Send it to me here, please : indianchaistories@gmail.com. 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. You will find yourself transported to another world!Happy reading! Cheers to the spirit of Indian Tea!