Dark Tales from the 'Thotums'* - II

 Bernard vanCuylenberg 

In 1941 the Kandy district was rocked by one of the most brutal murders which belied the bucolic charm of mountains, valleys, hills and dales, and life in those salubrious climes : the murder of Mr. George Pope, the Manager of Stellenberg Group, Pupuressa. 

 Mr. Pope was ever the strict disciplinarian and as tough as they come. He managed the estate with an iron hand, and woe betide anybody who stepped out of line. During this period, trade unions were formed on many plantations, and one day a group of workers met him and requested permission to form a trade union on Stellenberg. Not only was their request refused, but they were soundly berated and threatened with dire consequences as far as their employment on the estate was concerned, if they persisted with this demand. Dismayed at the manner of the refusal to what seemed to them a reasonable request and angered by the manner in which they were addressed, the workers held the matter in abeyance, and for a while life on Stellenberg went on.

Mr. Pope used to visit his neighbor, the Manager of Le Vallon Group, Pupuressa, at least twice a month for dinner. He had issued standing instructions that whenever he returned to the estate late at night, the tea maker on night duty was to telephone his bungalow and inform the bungalow cook to keep the garage doors open as soon as he crossed the factory.

On the night in question, Mr. Pope went over for the usual dinner rendezvous and returned very late. Driving along the road to his bungalow, a fair distance from the factory, the headlights of his car picked out some obstruction on the road which made it impossible for him to pass. It turned out to be the trunk of a tree, and if – there's always an IF in cases like this – he had fine tuned his antenna it would have told him that something was not quite right.

Call it bravery or foolhardiness, but he stopped the car and went up to the tree trunk. He attempted to dislodge it just enough to give him room to pass. The workers who had laid the trap were hiding in the tea bushes, armed with pruning knives. No sooner did he reach the trunk and attempt to move it than they attacked him  -in a fury of pent up anger with the pruning knives - holding nothing back.

On that dark lonely road, in the dead of night, he was literally hacked to pieces not by one, but by six men who fled the scene having committed this dastardly deed. George Pope lay on that road of death, the flesh ripped from his body, his life blood slowly draining away.

Meanwhile the bungalow cook, anxious that 'The Master' had still not returned as it was now almost 1.00 am, telephoned the factory and expressed his concern to the tea maker, Mr. Ludowyke. Alarmed at this phone call, Mr. Ludowyke organized a band of workers and armed with "pandans" (torches) to light their way, went along the road leading to the Bungalow from the Factory. Imagine their horror at finding Mr. Pope in a pool of blood breathing his last. The workers cleared the road and Mr. Ludowyke drove the car to the factory, the dying Mr. Pope by his side. He summoned the dispenser and then arranged for the wounded man to be taken to hospital  - to no avail. Having tenuously clung to life, Mr. Pope breathed his last in a scene straight out of hell.

Events took a quick turn after this. The police were informed. They came to Stellenberg with all speed and in the early hours of the morning commenced their inquiries. Fate lent them a helping hand almost immediately because at the scene of the murder they found a door key to a line room. At muster that morning, six workers were missing and could not be found anywhere, including the would-be union leader, Ramasamy Weeraswamy.

Pieces of the jigsaw began falling into place when the key found at the scene fitted the door to his line room. He and the other five, now the chief suspects, had absconded. The police then threw all their resources into a search which encompassed most of the plantations in the area and before long, one by one, the five suspects were arrested – except for the union leader. He evaded the law for almost five months and seemed to have vanished.

The Police had by then printed 'wanted' posters of the man for distribution, which were circulated as far as Kandy.

There is a lesson to be learned here. Never take anything or anybody for granted, least of all the humble barber with his scissors, comb and machine in his dingy saloon, unlike the fancy hairdressing saloons and boutiques of today. One such barber among many ran a small barber shop in Kandy with his assistant. One morning a scruffy looking character sauntered in looking the worse for wear requesting a haircut and shave. His unkempt hair and beard did not concern the barber for that was his trade. What he noted was the filthy state of the man’s shirt and sarong. He proceeded with the shave first, and then began the haircut. And this is where Alfred Hitchcock could depict what followed with his sense of the dramatic, like a scene in one of his classic movies, leaving the viewers biting their nails, and digging into their arm rests, in jaw dropping suspense.

 As he began cutting this customer’s hair, the face before him in the mirror accelerated his heartbeat as if he was walking a treadmill. Because, in the drawer of his little table at the back of the saloon there was a poster of the 'Wanted' man handed out by the police some time ago.  At the time of distribution, the suspect’s hair was not long and it resembled the face in the mirror before him.

Full credit to Captain Cool for not flinching or losing his nerve at this discovery. Politely telling his unsuspecting client that he had to answer a call of nature, he asked his assistant to continue where he had left off, went to his room, checked the poster, and having scrutinized it once more went to the tailors shop next door and used their telephone to inform the police. Five heavily armed constables led by an Inspector made their way to the saloon, and the wanted man – the union leader, Ramasamy Weeraswamy –surrendered meekly, realizing that escape was impossible this time.

The long search of five months had ended. The case was heard by one of the finest Judges of the time, Justice Soertsz. Five of the accused, the union leader included, were sentenced to be hanged and kept their date with the hangman. The other accused was sentenced to ten years imprisonment when it was conclusively proved that he had no direct link to the murder but had aided and abetted the accused in plotting Mr. Pope’s murder.

*'Thotum'  - Estate 

Meet the writer: Bernard VanCuylenberg

My late Dad was a tea planter...hence memories of the tea plantations are precious to me. My memories of childhood, growing up in the salubrious climate of the tea country are very dear to me, because my brother, sister and I had parents who were angels.

Prior to migrating to Australia my working background was in the field of tourism and hospitality.

In Australia I worked for seventeen years as an Administrative Officer in the Victoria Police Department, and retired in 1999. I played lead and rhythm guitarin two bands ( in Sri Lanka, and in Australia). I loved the Sitar and always hoped I could learn it one day. Ravi Shankar was my idol.    

Is this your first visit here? Welcome to Indian Chai Stories! 
 
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 

Dark Tales from the Thotums* - I

 Bernard vanCuylenberg

The sylvan surroundings, bracing climate and majestic mesmerizing landscapes of the tea estates in the plantation districts of Sri Lanka are an inspiration to the poet, artist, and philosopher. But beneath this facade of nature at her very best, lie tales of dark secrets and murder most foul, two of which are given in this article. The first, and perhaps best known was “The Whitehouse Murder” which took place in 1949.

Mr. Bruce Whitehouse was the Manager of Madampe Group, Rakwana in the Ratnapura district. Every month he would travel to Colombo, a distance of approximately 150 kilometers each way, to collect the staff / workers wages. On these trips he would follow a set routine.

Having collected the wages from the National & Grindlays Bank, he would visit the Colombo Swimming Club for drinks and sometimes lunch, after which he would drive back to Ratnapura. Mrs. Whitehouse usually accompanied him on these trips. Unknown to Mr. Whitehouse, his trips to Colombo and back were meticulously charted and studied by none other than the kingpin of the underworld in Colombo at the time – a veritable Al Capone of the day – the notorious and much feared "Laathara Baas ". 

This worthy gentleman was responsible for many crimes, murder included, and had fallen foul of the law on several occasions, but thanks to a slick lawyer, he always evaded being put away for life. "Laathara Baas" and his cronies were particularly interested in the trips Whitehouse made to Colombo and back due to the large sum of money he carried on the return trip. The criminal network was so well organized that they knew the exact day he would leave the estate. It transpired later that he was even followed to Ratnapura on a few occasions by a car which kept its distance, in order to ensure that the murderous plan these thugs had in mind would succeed when it was eventually carried out.

On that fateful day, true to form Whitehouse followed the script."Humourous" is a word I do not care to use considering the events to follow, but into this drama comes the humble tomato (Thakkali in Sinhalese)!  Mr. Whitehouse had a fondness for tomatoes, and sometimes during these visits he would go to the Pettah market (a public market in Colombo having many varieties of vegetables and fruits for sale) and purchase a sack or two of the best tomatoes to take back to his bungalow.

 On the day in question he did just that, and three sacks of tomatoes were placed in the boot side by side with the bags of cash. Now it happened that the bags of tomatoes bore a close resemblance to the bags of cash stacked side by side, and this odd mix played an important part in this sordid tale as would be seen later. So dear reader, take another sip of Merlot and steel yourself for the action down the track, or in this case, along the Colombo – Ratnapura Road.

As usual on this day Whitehouse was followed to the bank, to his club, and then to the Pettah market; and from there to Ratnapura. In the vehicle trailing him were "Laathara Baas" himself and three of his hoodlums with one intention – to waylay the car at a designated spot and steal the cash. Unaware that they were being followed, Mr. and Mrs. Whitehouse drove on, until at a sharp curve near the old bridge on the Ratnapura road a vehicle suddenly overtook theirs and blocked the road. Mr. Whitehouse slammed on the brakes, and before he could even begin to think, "Laathara Baas" and two of his sidekicks, fully armed and masked, thrust a gun in his face demanding that he handover the cash. If they thought that Whitehouse was an easy target, they thought wrong.

To their surprise he put up a defiant struggle, attempting to grapple with the thugs. It was three against one and proved futile. Incensed at being thwarted, the thugs responded in the manner best known to them – they shot Mr. Whitehouse at point blank range, and while his horrified wife watched on, opened the boot and took four bags of cash, making a quick getaway. 

Not quite..in their haste, they had taken two bags of tomatoes along with two bags of cash, leaving the rest of the bags in the boot. Mrs. Whitehouse meanwhile – full marks to this gallant lady – got behind the wheel, and cradling her mortally wounded husband in her lap, drove the car to the Palmgarden Estate factory around 3 kilometers away.  She could not save him - Mr. Whitehouse died soon after. 

The full force of the law, and the best detectives worked on the case, and after about three weeks, "Laathara Baas" and his henchmen were arrested. Following a trial which gripped the nation, "Laathara Baas" and his cronies went the way that all "good" criminals go. He and three of them were hanged at the Welikade jail, while one got a life sentence and died in prison.

To this day, the bend in the road where this gruesome murder was committed is known as "Thakkali Wanguwa" (Tomato Bend). I have seen it and in fact on one occasion stopped awhile at this bend attempting to visualize in my mind’s eye the horrible events as they happened that awful day in 1949. Unfortunately, not many are aware of this spot because the last book on this murder went out of print over fifty years ago, and with the passage of time events like this tend to be shrouded in the dark mists of memory.

*'Thotum'  - Estate 

Meet the writer: Bernard VanCuylenberg

My late Dad was a tea planter...hence memories of the tea plantations are precious to me. My memories of childhood, growing up in the salubrious climate of the tea country are very dear to me, because my brother, sister and I had parents who were angels.

Prior to migrating to Australia my working background was in the field of tourism and hospitality.

In Australia I worked for seventeen years as an Administrative Officer in the Victoria Police Department, and retired in 1999. I played lead and rhythm guitarin two bands ( in Sri Lanka, and in Australia). I loved the Sitar and always hoped I could learn it one day. Ravi Shankar was my idol.    

Is this your first visit here? Welcome to Indian Chai Stories! 
 
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

Anecdotes of the Maskeliya/Upcot District

Devaka Wickramasuriya
 
Tea Fields in the district with Adams Peak in the background
 
Planters are a unique breed in whatever part of the world they are in, and there are numerous anecdotes of their life on the plantations.  Therefore, having been a Sri Lankan Tea Planter for 40 years, I wish to share some of these anecdotes, all of which are from the period when I was on plantations in the Maskeliya/Upcot District in Sri Lanka.

The tea plantations in the district, which are rated to be among the finest in the world, are in the shadow of the famed Adams Peak.  The peak is a 2,243 m tall conical mountain located in central Sri Lanka. It is well known for the "sacred footprint", a 1.8 m rock formation near the summit, which in Buddhist tradition is regarded as the footprint of the Buddha, in Hindu tradition that of Shiva and in Islamic and Christian tradition that of Adam.

My time in the district was from 1977 to 1984 and I had the distinct privilege of serving as an Assistant Manager and thereafter a Senior Assistant Manager (“Sinna Dorai” in Tamil which in English is “Small Master”) on two of the better estates in the district namely Moray and Brunswick Estates. I recall the days in the district being the finest in my planting career and being a bachelor, did not have the restrictions that would normally have been imposed if there had been a wife around!   

My initial posting in the district was to Moray Estate.  The Manager (“Periya Dorai” in Tamil which is “Big Master”) was Conrad Abeysekera and the other Assistant Manager on the estate was Fred Amarasinghe.  Both Mr. Abeysekera and his wife were truly wonderful people and treated both Fred and I with much kindness.
Salaries were not too good at the time and after paying your Club and Kadday (the estate grocery store) bills there was not much left. Around the 3rd week of the month both Fred and I would compare our financial situations and find that we were down to “salmon” or “eggs” with funds not even permitting the purchase of any meats or even a bottle of the spirit that cheers. Mr. Abeysekera had a very fixed programme; he left office sharp at 4.30 p.m., read the newspapers and after a bath was ready to take on the evening by 7.00 p.m.

Fred and I knowing this gentleman’s hospitality and his kindness, when things were really bad financially, used to “drop in” at his Bungalow around 7.00 p.m. His stock question to us was “any problem” and after we had assured him that there was none, he used to invite us in and before much time had lapsed we had glasses in our hands and were soon well on the way to spending a good evening which always ended with a sumptuous dinner. On finding that Mr. Abeysekera was serving us Scotch Whisky (something we could not afford to drink at that time) while he was drinking Sri Lankan distilled Coconut Arrack, which was his choice of drink, I asked him as to why he was serving us Scotch when he very well knew that we drank Arrack. His reply was, “then who is going to finish the hampers I got”. Therefore, Fred and I consoled ourselves that our unannounced visits to Mr. Abeysekera’s Bungalow were beneficial to him as well!

There was a wonderful Club in the district - The Maskeliya Club - created in 1889 - which was functioning extremely well. Both Fred and I were active members and used to visit the Club (almost 12 miles away) at least three times a week. Mr. Abeysekera however did not visit the Club very often but supported all its activities. A story that comes to mind was one during the time of the Club’s Monsoon Dance in 1978 when Mrs. Abeysekera had been asked to prepare two whole Fish in some form or the other as a part of the Supper that was to be laid out. This having being done, they were handed over to me to be taken over to the Club in Mr. Abeysekera’s car which was released to Fred and me for the night. We were taking a Clerk from Moray to help at the Bar and he was tasked with keeping the two large dishes containing the two whole fish on his lap.

Approaching Maskeliya Town there was a shout from this Clerk – “Sir, Sir, please stop the Car”. On doing so and asking him what the trouble was, his reply was “Sir, this fish knocked that fish and that fish’s head has come off”! Running repairs were immediately done on the damaged fish even after which it resembled one that had been strangled as we were just not able to get its head straight. The two fish were duly handed over to the Lady Convenor of the Club, who after inspecting them, looked at us in a suspicious manner but probably due to the look of absolute innocence displayed on both Fred’s and my faces, fortunately did not make any comment.

My next estate was Brunswick which was a “jewel” and consisted of six Divisions - Brunswick, Bloomfield, Dunottar, Emelina, Mottingham and Caskieben. Mr. Manilal Abeyawardena was Manager and as on Moray Estate, he and his wife Srima were indeed wonderful people.

My first “field visit” with Mr. Abeyawardena was a visit to Field No: 1 C of Bloomfield Division which was being tipped after pruning. Mr. Abeyawardena having found that the tipping done was low is certain sections was furious. At this time the Field Officer of Bloomfield Division unfortunately came up to where we were and Mr. Abeyawardena on seeing him reprimanded him saying “Jiffrey look at this bloody tipping. You are only fit to be a spare p…k on a honeymoon”. Jiffrey obviously not quite understanding at that time what had been told to him replied “Yes Sir - I will get it rectified” after which Mr. Abeyawardena and I proceeded on the rest of our field visit.

That afternoon, after the effect of what Mr. Abeyawardena had dawned on him, Jiffrey was at my Bungalow, with his letter of resignation, to tell me that he had never been insulted so badly in his life before. I was able to convince Jiffrey that Mr. Abeyawardena would never have meant what he said and that it was purely due to the bad work that he had lost his temper. Jiffrey after some persuasion fortunately accepted what I told him and the matter ended there.

As the Maskeliya Club was located on Brunswick Estate, it was natural that I had to accept office at the Club and was therefore elected its Secretary.  The Club’s Annual Monsoon Dance was soon upon us and as Secretary and being the closest to the Club, much of the work connected with the dance was entrusted to me. One of the duties entrusted to me was the responsibility of picking up the Cabaret artiste from the Hatton Railway Station and accommodating her in my Bungalow, in all probability due to it being the closest to the Club and for no other conceivable reason! The Cabaret artiste was chaperoned by her mother and another gentleman who claimed to be her “Uncle”. After having refreshed themselves at my Bungalow, I took them over to the Club and deposited them in the Club’s Billiard Room until it was time for her to perform.

Needless to say, being the good host that I was, I frequently checked on how she was doing and provided her with ample “refreshments” in the hope that this would enhance her performance! A very senior Manager of the district, who had consumed quite a few drinks by that time, observing my frequent visits to the Billiard Room, asked me why I was doing so and I had no alternative but to reluctantly tell him that it was due to the Cabaret artiste being there. On hearing this he walked into the Billiard Room with me following and having inspected her asked me “Devaka, as she is anyway going to perform in a short time, would she be willing to do a private performance for me now if I pay her something”. The Cabaret artiste and her mother both took umbrage at this and I had a phenomenal task in preventing them from leaving. The Manager who caused the rumpus fled “the scene of the crime” leaving me to resolve the problem on my own, which I was fortunately successful in doing.

A new Assistant Manager - Seevali Mudannnayake -  who was immediately after his training arrived on Brunswick and Mr. Abeyawardena and I decided to take him down to the Maskeliya Club to “break him in” and instil into him “Brunswick traditions”. Many others too were present at the Club and a thoroughly enjoyable evening was in progress. Mr. Abeyawardena after some time insisted that Seevali, being the youngest amongst us, pours his drinks and called out to Seevali “Seevali, one finger Arrack topped up with Soda”. Seevali duly obliged and when the glass was handed back to Mr. Abeyawardena and he had taken a sip, there was a shout from him “Seevali don’t you even know what one finger is”. Seevali’s reply was “Yes Sir, one finger” with his finger extended upwards!

My final anecdote is of another Assistant Manager in the district who I will not name.  All Assistant Managers were provided with Motor Cycles and this particular Assistant Manager prided himself on having an excellent knowledge of Motor Cycles.  The time came when his Motor Cycle had to be overhauled and despite his Manager advising him that he should send it to a proper repair shop, he refused and decided to attend to the overhaul on his own.  The news spread around the district like wildfire as no Planter had previously attended an overhaul of this magnitude on his own.  We were all informed when the repair was completed and invited to witness the machine being started and brought back to life.  An auspicious time was found from the local astrologer and at the appointed time, watched by most of the Assistant Managers in the district as well as his beloved wife, our friend “kick started” the machine which immediately burst into life.  We were all amazed at his ability but this amazement immediately turned to shock followed by peals of laughter as when the machine was put into gear, it went backwards!!!!

Of the characters mentioned in my story, Conrad Abeysekera and Fred Amarasinghe have left this world, Manilal Abeyawardena and I live a life of retirement in Colombo while Seevali Mudannayake is Manager of Strathspey Estate, one of the largest properties in the Maskeliya / Upcot. 

Devaka Wickramasuriya has worked on some of the best tea plantations in Sri Lanka. During this time, besides being a conscientious worker, he was actively involved in the social life normally associated with a planter and has served on the Committees of many plantation district clubs and associations. 

He also continued with his school day passion of Rugby and Captained his district Rugby Club and was also selected to be a member of the Up-Country Rugby team. He also served as Deputy President of the Ceylon Planters Society as well as held the post of General Manager – Plantations of Carsons Agro Services Limited, a company that was selected to manage plantations in the 1st stage of privatization of estates in Sri Lanka. His last post in the plantation industry was as Chairman of Elkaduwa Plantations Limited, a state-owned and managed Regional Plantation Company. 

Is this your first visit here? Welcome to Indian Chai Stories! 
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, 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/