Aloke's latest story introduces us to a 'character' from another era
by Aloke Mookerjee
Every plantation in India could boast of its share of colourful personalities. Those who had once lived there and left their impressions deeply enough to remain unforgotten. The escapades of these flamboyant eccentrics, related with relish by the workers and staff, kept alive the spirit of ‘tea’ and its reputation as a haven of the unconventional in a world apart. Nagrakata was no exception and in my interactions with the workers there, I would frequently hear of one ‘Kummin Saab’ and his charmingly offbeat lifestyle. John Comyn was, by all accounts, a talented Englishman of a distinctive even if a somewhat quirky disposition.
As a key member of the ‘Nagrakata Amateur Players’ (then an active dramatic society of the Nagrakata Club better known by its acronym ‘NAPs’), John’s thespian qualities came to the fore with great elan and verve. And from the tales of his exploits, revealed by the workers and staff of the estate, it would seem evident, that his sense of drama was not reserved for the stage alone!
As an Assistant Manager of Nagrakata, a few years before I landed there, John Comyn earned recognition for planting up large virgin tracts with tea that got to be known as ‘Sukhanbari Division’ of the estate. As was the ‘dastoor’ (custom), when planting tea, John would reach the nursery well on time, before the arrival of the first workers, and leave the planting site only after the entire operation got over.
Recalling their planting days with ‘kummin saab’, the older workers would often relate an entertaining episode, that apparently unfolded punctually at eight every morning when the estate’s old and fading Bedford lorry rumbled and rolled in at the site. This time the groaning and wheezing truck carried no plants from the nursery, as was the usual norm; instead, in it would be John’s turbaned and white liveried bearer with ‘saab’s’ breakfast and its related paraphernalia! With the lorry grinding to a halt, the bearer would be seen to be quickly jumping out and dashing with sprightly energy to erect a small marquee in a corner of the field. A folding table and canvas chair were then placed under its shade. That done, the ‘saab’s’ breakfast was carefully laid out and duly announced. John Comyn, who had thus far been walking around supervising the planting work, would saunter across and sit under the marquee to partake of his ‘English breakfast’ of bacon and eggs, toast and marmalade with hot tea poured out from a flask and diligently served by his bearer while work continued all around him!
John ‘dressed’ for dinner – every night without fail, in company or alone! After sundown when darkness descended and the sounds and scents of a tropical night filled the air, John would appear in the ‘gol kamra’ resplendent in his dress suit complete with a stiff fronted dress shirt, cummerbund and black bow tie (never a ready-made bow, God forbid!). He would then settle down for a glass or two of his favourite sherry while dinner was being laid out on his fine bone china crockery with the sterling silver cutlery glinting in the flickering light of two candles. Apparently, this standard routine was never skipped!
Tales other than his sartorial and breakfast habits also abounded. One, in particular, about his ‘Ghost Runs’ was related to me, more than once, by my ‘paniwalla’ (who years back happened to be with John also). With a shifty look of one terrified that the diabolical apparition might make a sudden appearance at any moment, my fidgety ‘paniwalla’ would tell me, in low whispering tones, how the ‘fearless’ Kummin Saab with a heavy flashlight in hand and the ‘paniwalla’ in tow, would regularly take to chasing an errant ‘spirit’, that sometimes suddenly appeared as a flashing flame scurrying along the lonely ‘south garden’ roads of Nagrakata in the darkest hours of the night! At my skeptical reaction, the affronted story teller would solemnly swear to its veracity adding to it that while the ‘vision’ seemed tantalizingly close, it always managed to keep just a whisker ahead of contact. Of course, if ‘Kummin Saab’ did ever get close enough to almost reach touching distance, the elusive flames would quickly evaporate only to light up yet again but further up in the distance!
However much, I hoped to experience for myself the spectre of ‘the scurrying flames’, no such spooky happenings ever befell me in my nocturnal walks or cycle rides. Perhaps, Kummin Saab had succeeded in his endeavours after all with the ‘flashing spectre’ deciding to ‘make a run for it’ away once and for all!
Despite his idiosyncrasies, John Comyn always remained sympathetic and sensitive to the workers’ needs He never forgot to fulfil the promises made to them. In return, he earned, in large measures, the workers profound respect and affection as evinced by the tales lovingly recalled and related years after he was gone. His charmingly quirky lifestyle remained a subject of lively conversation long after he had left the plantations for the Head Office in Calcutta.
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 The Eager Beaver , A Spiritual Encounter, Gillanders and the Greenhorn and Unto the Unknown for Indian Chai Stories. Here is the link to all posts by Aloke - https://teastorytellers.blogspot.com/search?q=aloke
Is this your first visit here? Welcome to Indian Chai 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!
ADD THIS LINK TO YOUR FAVOURITES : https://teastorytellers.blogspot.com/Indian Chai Stories
by Aloke Mookerjee
Every plantation in India could boast of its share of colourful personalities. Those who had once lived there and left their impressions deeply enough to remain unforgotten. The escapades of these flamboyant eccentrics, related with relish by the workers and staff, kept alive the spirit of ‘tea’ and its reputation as a haven of the unconventional in a world apart. Nagrakata was no exception and in my interactions with the workers there, I would frequently hear of one ‘Kummin Saab’ and his charmingly offbeat lifestyle. John Comyn was, by all accounts, a talented Englishman of a distinctive even if a somewhat quirky disposition.
As a key member of the ‘Nagrakata Amateur Players’ (then an active dramatic society of the Nagrakata Club better known by its acronym ‘NAPs’), John’s thespian qualities came to the fore with great elan and verve. And from the tales of his exploits, revealed by the workers and staff of the estate, it would seem evident, that his sense of drama was not reserved for the stage alone!
As an Assistant Manager of Nagrakata, a few years before I landed there, John Comyn earned recognition for planting up large virgin tracts with tea that got to be known as ‘Sukhanbari Division’ of the estate. As was the ‘dastoor’ (custom), when planting tea, John would reach the nursery well on time, before the arrival of the first workers, and leave the planting site only after the entire operation got over.
Recalling their planting days with ‘kummin saab’, the older workers would often relate an entertaining episode, that apparently unfolded punctually at eight every morning when the estate’s old and fading Bedford lorry rumbled and rolled in at the site. This time the groaning and wheezing truck carried no plants from the nursery, as was the usual norm; instead, in it would be John’s turbaned and white liveried bearer with ‘saab’s’ breakfast and its related paraphernalia! With the lorry grinding to a halt, the bearer would be seen to be quickly jumping out and dashing with sprightly energy to erect a small marquee in a corner of the field. A folding table and canvas chair were then placed under its shade. That done, the ‘saab’s’ breakfast was carefully laid out and duly announced. John Comyn, who had thus far been walking around supervising the planting work, would saunter across and sit under the marquee to partake of his ‘English breakfast’ of bacon and eggs, toast and marmalade with hot tea poured out from a flask and diligently served by his bearer while work continued all around him!
John ‘dressed’ for dinner – every night without fail, in company or alone! After sundown when darkness descended and the sounds and scents of a tropical night filled the air, John would appear in the ‘gol kamra’ resplendent in his dress suit complete with a stiff fronted dress shirt, cummerbund and black bow tie (never a ready-made bow, God forbid!). He would then settle down for a glass or two of his favourite sherry while dinner was being laid out on his fine bone china crockery with the sterling silver cutlery glinting in the flickering light of two candles. Apparently, this standard routine was never skipped!
Tales other than his sartorial and breakfast habits also abounded. One, in particular, about his ‘Ghost Runs’ was related to me, more than once, by my ‘paniwalla’ (who years back happened to be with John also). With a shifty look of one terrified that the diabolical apparition might make a sudden appearance at any moment, my fidgety ‘paniwalla’ would tell me, in low whispering tones, how the ‘fearless’ Kummin Saab with a heavy flashlight in hand and the ‘paniwalla’ in tow, would regularly take to chasing an errant ‘spirit’, that sometimes suddenly appeared as a flashing flame scurrying along the lonely ‘south garden’ roads of Nagrakata in the darkest hours of the night! At my skeptical reaction, the affronted story teller would solemnly swear to its veracity adding to it that while the ‘vision’ seemed tantalizingly close, it always managed to keep just a whisker ahead of contact. Of course, if ‘Kummin Saab’ did ever get close enough to almost reach touching distance, the elusive flames would quickly evaporate only to light up yet again but further up in the distance!
However much, I hoped to experience for myself the spectre of ‘the scurrying flames’, no such spooky happenings ever befell me in my nocturnal walks or cycle rides. Perhaps, Kummin Saab had succeeded in his endeavours after all with the ‘flashing spectre’ deciding to ‘make a run for it’ away once and for all!
Despite his idiosyncrasies, John Comyn always remained sympathetic and sensitive to the workers’ needs He never forgot to fulfil the promises made to them. In return, he earned, in large measures, the workers profound respect and affection as evinced by the tales lovingly recalled and related years after he was gone. His charmingly quirky lifestyle remained a subject of lively conversation long after he had left the plantations for the Head Office in Calcutta.
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 The Eager Beaver , A Spiritual Encounter, Gillanders and the Greenhorn and Unto the Unknown for Indian Chai Stories. Here is the link to all posts by Aloke - https://teastorytellers.blogspot.com/search?q=aloke
Is this your first visit here? Welcome to Indian Chai 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!
ADD THIS LINK TO YOUR FAVOURITES : https://teastorytellers.blogspot.com/Indian Chai Stories
4 comments:
Another sixer, Aloke! Thoroughly enjoyable! There should be a volume devoted entirely to idiosyncratic but lovable planters like John Comyn. They're a dying breed, if not already entombed.
Thank you Roma. You are certainly doing wonders to my ego!
A delectable treat with exclusive tea flavours. Agree with Roma there should be volume devoted the accounts of such unique characters . Keep sharing your treasure Mr Muokerjee
Thank you Shalini
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