A jumbo ‘earthquake,’ from the eyes of a nine-year-old

by Sudipta Bhattacharjee

I was delighted to get an email from Sudipta. She wrote: "I decided to put my work aside for an hour and write about the elephants in the tea garden. I just let some words tumble out from my memories..." So glad you did, Sudipta. I loved reading this. So will you, dear reader. - Gowri

This season of earthquakes and tsunamis across the globe reminded me of the terrifying sensations of feeling a house, especially a wooden one in a tea garden, rattle incessantly in the dead of night, aeons ago, when I was a little girl. My uncle, Sukumar (Dhruba) Sengupta, a tea planter, was then posted in Assam’s Udalguri district, bordering Bhutan, in a garden called Majuli. To a nine-year-old from the bustling city of Calcutta, the flight to Guwahati and the long but smooth drive through scenic countryside to the sylvan foothills was nothing short of a magical journey.

Majuli. Pic sourced from the internet by the author

 We visited my uncle once in four years, and this as the first time I was old enough for the impressions to register. Once the blue hills, possibly those of Bhutan, began to materialize in the distance, my genes (being the granddaughter of forest officers and being blessed with botanist parents) exerted themselves into a random dance of joie de vivre.

Once the neat rows of tea bushes heralded the garden zone, we wallowed in the fresh fragrance that nature bequeaths on the plantations. As we left the main road for the garden trail, there was a delicious sense of anticipation of seeing the manager’s bungalow.

We loved it on sight! My aunt Tanima, famed for her flower gardens, had also made fruit and vegetable patches along the lawn. She took me on a tour to show the raspberry patch before we could sample her delicious raspberry jam for tea. Of course, we had not been inducted into the joys of drinking tea then; a huge glass of milk, courtesy the garden cows, was in store for us!

We were tired from the lengthy journey and the excitement of travel and went to sleep after an early dinner. The call of crickets was the last sound I registered, before the calls of the boukathakou bird (possibly the Indian cuckoo or Cuculus Micropterus) woke us up at the crack of dawn.

My uncle had two dogs. A German Shepherd called Rex and a tiny pup named Tipu Sultan! I was terrified of dogs at that time and avoided the duo all morning. I was perched on the swing near the gate when my uncle returned from his morning rounds. He disembarked from the jeep and strode purposefully in my direction carrying something. Before I realized his intention, he dumped Tipu on my lap! Frozen with terror on the swing, my feet separated from the sanctuary of terra ferma, it took me a few minutes to realise that the warm bundle nestling on me was looking up with more than a modicum of trust and craving a touch. Guided by my uncle, I tentatively touched the little head. The tail wagged a wee bit, encouraging and fostering what has turned out to be a lifetime of canine adoration!

That night, high on the accomplishment of my foray into the animal world, we went to sleep. Only to be jolted awake a little later with a thundering sound. There was the unified chorus of a herd of wild elephants trumpeting at the bungalow doorstep. The rooms shook and rattled. As we cowered in fear on our beds, the sounds were compounded by shrieks and shouts of the garden workers, beating on metal and holding burning torches to drive away the jumbo family.

The chaos continued with Rex and Tipu Sultan barking inexorably, adding to the cacophony. Finally, after what seemed like ages, the sounds subsided and the herd possibly moved off. But not before leaving their mark on the vegetable patch and devastating my aunt’s prized flower garden.

We were on tenterhooks every night for the rest of our brief stay, but other than seeing mashaal (burning torches) in the distance, we were spared other close encounters with the pachyderms. Years later, I learnt that Udalguri was an elephant corridor and can now applaud the efforts being undertaken for their conservation in the tea garden zone and elsewhere in this Assam district.

Meet the writer:

 Sudipta is a career journalist who joined The Telegraph in Kolkata as a trainee in 1985 and retired at the end of August as Resident Editor (Northeast). She moved to Shillong in 1992 after her husband was transferred to Meghalaya on a three-year posting and continued to report for The Telegraph from there. She travelled to the United States on a Fulbright Research Fellowship in 2004-5 and returned to base thereafter. Her tryst with tea gardens began as a four-year-old to Kakajan in Upper Assam, where her uncle, Sukumar (Dhruba) Sengupta was posted. She and her family visited him in Majuli Tea Estate in Assam in 1970 and 1973 and by herself in December 1975 to the Dooars, when he was posted at Damdim Tea Estate. She has visited gardens in Darjeeling (where a tea tasting session was hosted for her), the Nilgiris and Munnar, Sri Lanka and hopes to share her experiences through this blog, of which she is an avid follower.

Sudipta is now adjunct professor of media science and journalism at Brainware University. 

Here is the link to all the stories Sudipta has written for this blog: http://teastorytellers.blogspot.com/search/label/Sudipta%20Bhattacharjee

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, maybe 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/

The ‘Taste’ of Tea

by Sudipta Bhattacharjee 

A note from the editor: Some friends asked me if the blog was still a going concern, because they hadn't seen many posts going up since the year began. Here's what I said to them: 'I don't pester people to send me stories. If they have one to tell, I know they will send it in. A story can't be produced on demand. It has to come straight from the heart.'
Sudipta Bhattacharjee's does just that. Thank you, Sudipta. Cheers!

My first acquaintance with a tea garden was at Kakajan in Upper Assam, when I was four years old. Hazy memories of a lush garden firmed up five years later, when we visited my maternal uncle, Sukumar (Dhruba) Sengupta, then manager at Majuli Tea Estate (then owned by Finlay) in Udalguri, Assam.

The drive from Guwahati airport whetted our appetites and as we neared our destination, the sylvan expanse of tea bushes filled us with a delicious sense of anticipation. Alongside the driveway there was a swing, which became a favourite haunt over the next few days.

My uncle had two dogs, a German Shepherd called Rex and a Cocker Spaniel, curiously named Tipu Sultan. I was so terrified of canines at the time that I steered clear of both. They were perfectly well-behaved pets but I always kept a wary eye on them as we gorged on the most delicious snacks at tea-time, served with typical garden fanfare.

The children were, of course, not allowed to sample the celebrated brew whose “liquor” and “aroma” the grown-ups extolled. We were served large glasses of milk that we abhorred. I once tried to taste some tea from my mother’s cup, but one stern look from my aunt, Tanima, put paid to such ambitions.

Young Sudipta gets her prize for topping the class!

One day, I was sitting on the swing engrossed in a Noddy book, when I saw my uncle approaching me, Tipu in his arms. When I looked up, he promptly put Tipu on my lap! I screamed, Tipu yelped; no prizes for guessing who was more petrified. Uncle very patiently picked up the pup and put him back on my lap. “Hold him, he won’t bite,” he instructed. I put my quivering arms around the warm ball of fur and was won over for life.

My uncle was so pleased with the success of his mission that he asked me what I would like as a prize. I said I would like to visit the tea factory. A planter to the core, he not only kept his promise but ensured a conducted tour. The resultant impact on a curious nine-year-old was an overwhelming desire to taste the forbidden brew. If it was only dried and rolled leaves, why could we not sample it?

As luck would have it, a tea taster arrived at the garden during our visit, generating a flurry of activity. It appeared to be a momentous occasion; we picked up the sombre vibes and the general alacrity with which the staff reacted. The situation was further compounded because a herd of elephants had trumpeted around the bungalow that night.

All this provided me with the ideal opportunity to finally quench my curiosity. Since my uncle and aunt appeared preoccupied with their official guest, I had ample time to approach my mother’s morning cup of cheer and take a guilt-ridden gulp! Oh, the disappointment! It tasted worse than our cocoa-flavoured milk!

Decades later, having learnt to savour the garden brew enough to distinguish the first flush from the second, we came across a tea taster during a visit to Darjeeling. In the course of our conversation on silver tips and oolong, he invited us to observe him at work the following morning.

It was an experience of a lifetime, the sight of the little bowls arrayed on the table as he moved from one to the other, sampling the brew and marking it. We marveled at the skill and expertise it entailed. When he finished his ceremonious trial, he asked us to try it for ourselves. As avowed tea drinkers now, it made our day.

To think it all began when a frisky little tea garden pup was unceremoniously dumped on my lap!

Meet the writer:

 Sudipta is a career journalist who joined The Telegraph in Kolkata as a trainee in 1985 and retired at the end of August as Resident Editor (Northeast). She moved to Shillong in 1992 after her husband was transferred to Meghalaya on a three-year posting and continued to report for The Telegraph from there. She travelled to the United States on a Fulbright Research Fellowship in 2004-5 and returned to base thereafter. Her tryst with tea gardens began as a four-year-old to Kakajan in Upper Assam, where her uncle, Sukumar (Dhruba) Sengupta was posted. She and her family visited him in Majuli Tea Estate in Assam in 1970 and 1973 and by herself in December 1975 to the Dooars, when he was posted at Damdim Tea Estate. She has visited gardens in Darjeeling (where a tea tasting session was hosted for her), the Nilgiris and Munnar, Sri Lanka and hopes to share her experiences through this blog, of which she is an avid follower.

Sudipta is now adjunct professor of media science and journalism at Brainware University. 

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, maybe 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/

 

Brewed: Heritage, Happiness and Tea

How to make a tea factory metamorphose into a world-class hotel: Nuwara Eliya, Sri Lanka, can show us the way, says Sudipta Bhattacharjee 

There is a magical quality about Nuwara Eliya, a sleepy town in the heart of Sri Lanka at nearly 7,000 feet above sea level. With its swirling mists and lush tea plantations, gushing waterfalls and stately colonial cottages, the “city of light” and “city of the plateau” (roughly translated from Sinhalese) was better known as “Little England” in colonial times.

Founded by Samuel Baker, explorer of the Nile and discoverer of Lake Albert, in 1846, it nestles in the Pidurutalagala range, the tallest mountain on the emerald isle that forms a protective backdrop to this tea county in the Central province.

We drove from Colombo to the picturesque and touristy city of Kandy and proceeded to Nuwara Eliya the next morning. The 85km ride through hilly terrain, myriad hairpin bends (that would put the 36 Ooty-Masinagudi twists and turns to shame) and a tunnel took nearly three hours. A stop at a tea factory ensured sampling of the famous Serendip brew and a conducted tour of the premises. It left us impressed enough to buy golden tips (comprising only the tea buds) before feasting our senses on the gushing Ramboda waterfalls. How I wished tea gardens in India would orchestrate such a drive to popularize our teas.

Chuckling over the Mackwoods sign on the hill, styled in a takeoff from the Hollywood sign in Los Angeles (from across the Griffith Observatory), we passed unending miles of the Mackwoods Labookellie tea estate en route. There are other tea gardens en route, but none as sprawling as Macwoods. Indeed, the drive was a throwback to the tea-bush laden hills of Munnar in Kerala, albeit at a higher altitude (6,850 feet to Munnar's 5,200).

From Nuwara Eliya, we still had another 15km to our destination, the Heritance Tea Factory at Kandapola, most of it along a steep gradient. The old factory of the Hethersett plantation, now converted into this heritage hotel, is today a much-sought-after destination. Other than some wild buffaloes, we were fortunate not to encounter any descending vehicle on that narrow track and reached the verdant grounds with a song in our hearts.

Heritance Tea Factory

Set on a meticulously landscaped garden past manicured tea gardens was the Hethersett factory of yore (the first to fetch the highest price in the world for its silver tips tea), every single one of its 54 rooms booked by tourists from all over the globe. We were accorded a warm traditional welcome: Men in white headgear and sarong put a sandalwood paste tika on our foreheads and offered cardamom, cumin seeds and sugar candy to sample with their welcome drink of spiced tea.

Manager Roshanth Selvaraj accompanied us in an old iron elevator to the fourth floor that boasts of the Flowerdew suite, offering a breathtakingly beautiful view of the landscape. Only when we could tear away our glance from the view, did we notice the crystal bowl with luscious strawberries and a bowl of cream on the table!

 The original factory parts have been retained in green while the reinforcements are in red; the dining hall table décor is neatly blended with the red-and-green colour scheme (see pictures).

Tea factory dining room with old machine parts

The décor retains the carefully preserved vestiges of the old factory. There is a huge roller beam structure above the bar, formerly the factory’s tea packing room. The gadgets for drying green leaves are visible around the restaurant and lounge (the part of the factory where the tea leaves were rolled and dried).

Tea factory bar

The lofts of the factory are now the guest rooms. Outside the premises, an entire train bogey on tracks has been recreated into a fine-dining restaurant. A waiter even manages to use a lever to simulate the chug-chug rhythm of a moving train. In the absence of a platform, hauling oneself into the bogey from ground level is quite an adventure.

With the mist swirling over the pines, and lush green tea-covered hills as far as the eye could see, this destination was a sylvan dream.

But before leaving, just as the magical mist began to envelope the surroundings, I managed to get hold of a keepsake: the Heritance spiced tea recipe!

1 litre of hot water, 2 teaspoons of tea leaf, 2 cardamoms, 1 small piece of cinnamon, 1 sliced lime, 3 mint leaves, 2 teaspoons of vanilla essence, sugar (as per requirement). Boil for five minutes. Strain and serve!

 Editor's note: You may also like to see more Indian Chai Stories from Sri Lanka: -

https://teastorytellers.blogspot.com/2018/03/anecdotes-of-maskeliyaupcot-district.html by Devaka Wickramasuriya

https://teastorytellers.blogspot.com/search/label/Bernard%20VanCuylenberg - six tales - some spine-chilling, by Bernard Van Cuylenberg, and

https://teastorytellers.blogspot.com/2019/01/sojourn-in-sri-lanka.html by Sarita Dasgupta

 

Meet the writer:

Sudipta is a career journalist who joined The Telegraph in Kolkata as a trainee in 1985 and retired at the end of August as Resident Editor (Northeast). She moved to Shillong in 1992 after her husband was transferred to Meghalaya on a three-year posting and continued to report for The Telegraph from there. She travelled to the United States on a Fulbright Research Fellowship in 2004-5 and returned to base thereafter. Her tryst with tea gardens began as a four-year-old to Kakajan in Upper Assam, where her uncle, Sukumar (Dhruba) Sengupta was posted. She and her family visited him in Majuli Tea Estate in Assam in 1970 and 1973 and by herself in December 1975 to the Dooars, when he was posted at Damdim Tea Estate. She has visited gardens in Darjeeling (where a tea tasting session was hosted for her), the Nilgiris and Munnar, Sri Lanka and hopes to share her experiences through this blog, of which she is an avid follower.

Sudipta is now adjunct professor of media science and journalism at Brainware University. 

 More stories by Sudipta here: https://teastorytellers.blogspot.com/search/label/Sudipta%20Bhattacharjee

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. 
Happy reading! Cheers to the spirit of Indian Tea! 

A Christmas To Remember

Hello, again, dear readers! I'm delighted to welcome Sudipta Bhattacharjee to Indian Chai Stories. Her story will make you smile even as you wipe a tear from your eye: it's all about what makes Christmas really special -- family, love and sharing. 

'There was an aura about Christmas in Kolkata...but I got my first glimpse of a real Santa Claus in a tea garden in north Bengal's Dooars !'  

There was an aura about Christmas in Kolkata, possibly induced by my schooling at La Martiniere, where 'carol evening' was an event to cherish just before the school closed for the winter vacation. The midnight Mass at St Paul's Cathedral, the festive mood on Park Street and plum cakes from Nahoum's made the occasion memorable.

But I got my first glimpse of a real Santa Claus in a tea garden in north Bengal's Dooars and had the joy of opening my first gaily-wrapped Christmas present from under a tree at the Damdim Tea Estate Club in 1975. The joy of that occasion is imprinted indelibly in my mind.

The 45-minute flight from Kolkata to Bagdogra in December offers a view of the snow-capped Himalayas and in those days, sumptuous meals were served even on short-duration flights. My cousin Joydeep, a wee bit older than me and a class senior, was returning to his parents in the tea garden from Mayo College, Ajmer, and I accompanied him from Kolkata. Two young teenagers enjoying their first flight on their own, a joyous Christmas break from boarding school, with a new class to look forward to on our return. 

The late Tanima Sengupta, wife of Damdim Tea Estate manager late Sukumar (Dhruba) Sengupta, with her son Joydeep and niece Sudipta (the author) in the bungalow garden on Christmas eve, 1975. Don't miss the roses, Tanima's pride! Pix by Sukumar (Dhruba) Sengupta, captions Sudipta Bhattacharjee

Damdim was picture-perfect

My uncle, Sukumar (Dhruba) Sengupta, worked for the Tata-Finlay garden at Damdim and was at the airport with my aunt Tanima to pick us up. The drive to the garden near Malbazar was picturesque, especially with the tea belt stretching out for miles on either side.

Damdim was picture-perfect, the manager's bungalow set in sylvan surroundings. My aunt's green fingers were much in evidence; winter blossoms adorned the flower beds around the lawn and much to our delight, there was a tennis court adjoining the swimming pool on the grounds. My cousin and I both played tennis in our schools and were delighted to be able to practise before the American-style championships to be held at Chalsa that week. 

Joydeep and the author (Sudipta) take a break after a practice match on the tennis court of Damdim Tea Estate in Dooars,  West Bengal, in December 1975. Photo by planter late Sukumar (Dhruba) Sengupta, Joydeep's father, who was the garden manager at the time

I had lost my mother to cancer on Christmas eve the previous year, and my uncle and aunt were both very caring, helping me heal as the anniversary of the greatest loss of my life drew close. To keep me from brooding, my aunt asked me to accompany her to the club as she made arrangements for Christmas. I helped her pack the presents for children, as well as prizes for games. Stalls were set up, the club was readied for a grand party and my spirits imbibed the joyous ambience.

Almost simultaneously, we headed for Chalsa every morning for the tennis meet. My cousin, an excellent player already, won the singles final easily, while I got a tome of the Webster's dictionary after winning the girls' doubles. It was the only 'book' prize I ever earned for sports (the others are usually trophies), so I have preserved it to this day.

On the last day of the tennis tournament, there was to be a party. The young boys and girls who had met for the first time at the contest were looking forward to the social. As we headed back to Damdim to change and return, our car met with an accident on the hilly terrain. We walked to the nearest tea garden, whose manager was courteous enough to let us sit while another car came to pick us up, but we had to miss the party.

So it was only in the fitness of things that I got to experience a wonderful Christmas at Damdim's Club. We reached the venue on Christmas to find a fairytale setting. And then came Santa (later I learnt it was the manager of the neighbouring Rungamuttee Tea Estate) roaring his ho ho ho and ringing a big brass bell! He took the children on his lap and handed them the large gifts I had helped my aunt pack so beautifully. After all the children of the garden staff got their Christmas presents, he beckoned me. I hadn't expected a gift as I wasn't really a 'garden child' but he handed me an oblong box and patted my head as he wished me a Merry Christmas.

I tried my hand at the various stalls set up on the ground and won a bottle of pineapple jam at the hoopla! The fete-like atmosphere culminated in a Christmas party where the elegant ladies and dapper men danced their way into the night. We youngsters merrily shook a leg too!

On returning to the bungalow, I opened my gift. It was a Scrabble, much to my delight. I tentatively picked up two of the wooden alphabets, face down: an M and an A. I knew my mother was blessing me from heaven. I have the Scrabble board and every one of those alphabets still. 

After all, that Christmas gift from a distant tea garden ultimately made me a wordsmith!

-- Sudipta Bhattacharjee 

Meet the writer:

Sudipta is a career journalist who joined The Telegraph in Kolkata as a trainee in 1985 and retired at the end of August as Resident Editor (Northeast). She moved to Shillong in 1992 after her husband was transferred to Meghalaya on a three-year posting and continued to report for The Telegraph from there. She travelled to the United States on a Fulbright Research Fellowship in 2004-5 and returned to base thereafter. Her tryst with tea gardens began as a four-year-old to Kakajan in Upper Assam, where her uncle, Sukumar (Dhruba) Sengupta was posted. She and her family visited him in Majuli Tea Estate in Assam in 1970 and 1973 and by herself in December 1975 to the Dooars, when he was posted at Damdim Tea Estate. She has visited gardens in Darjeeling (where a tea tasting session was hosted for her), the Nilgiris and Munnar, Sri Lanka and hopes to share her experiences through this blog, of which she is an avid follower.

Sudipta is now adjunct professor of media science and journalism at Brainware University. 

 More Christmas stories here: https://teastorytellers.blogspot.com/search?q=christmas

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. 
Happy reading! Cheers to the spirit of Indian Tea!