To Embroider a Story...

Reminiscence of the Camellia kind
by Sunayana Sarkar

The Camellia Sinensis territory in India has a class of its own. It maintains its own quirky dictionary, its own set of rules, own range of recipes and unique loyalties. Once a tea kid, always a tea “kid”, even when you are pushing 70!! 

Photographs and  table linen by the author

I was not really a Chai ka baby by strict definition but with Kamjari* clad Dad, working as a serious agronomist and soil scientist at Tea Research Association, I was no less. We ended up following the same principles of simple, easy but extremely comfortable living and stress-less existence, cocooned amidst verdant expansive experimental plots, which were pretty much like any tea estate. 

Some of the growing tea kids who took to sociology and its variant subjects in their later years perhaps shunned these elaborate luxuries, as being a derivative of indentured labour practices and more, but I am inwardly convinced that each one of us will remember the quirky nuances, secretly or otherwise, with much love, till our graves. 

Now that is what is important. The “Bagania” years have managed to consolidate us as a large extended family, for life, however extinction-phile our generation might seem, at this point in time.

Of the many niche life habits that we may have unconsciously picked up in the tea way of life, the affinity for good table linen is perhaps an integral one. It just had to be perfect. 

Casement fabric ruled supreme.  The available colours were mostly pastel shades of cream, pink, green, blue and yellow. The Ladies Clubs staunchly supported such sewing projects. If the “memsahib” was accomplished with such talents, half the battle would be won. 

Time as a parameter was in excess. Evenings could wear long and quiet against the chirping of crickets. Crochet, knitting, sewing, embroidery were not just hobbies back there, but necessary endeavours to supplement the ever increasing need to have unique table linen at a party, bordering almost on a sense of pride and silent competition. Swapping patterns and having crochet or knitting parties to celebrate the seasons, were run of the mill. 

Each year special dinners would be organized, keeping the table décor in mind. Colours had to be matched and so annual trips to the then city of Calcutta obviously included a complete day kept aside for hunting out perfect colours in the skein of embroidery catalogues. In retrospect, these excessive obsessions with table linen may seem ridiculous now, but the fact remains that we have been moulded for life, latently.

Back then we were brand and label conscious too, although in completely different perspectives. The Memsahibs did not really care where they bought their party sarees and jewellery from, as long as they were beautiful and elegant, but when it came to table linen, there were stalwart stores, that most frequented. 

Good Companions, on Russel Street, Calcutta, satisfied much of this appetite. They stocked on both fine embroidered tatting lace edged organza table napkins (Ridiculously impractical for use, I always thought, especially when they would be starched and unwieldly till kingdom come!!) to coarser casement varieties. The embroidery patterns were so unique that the “Label” could easily be recognized. While visiting for the linen, the memsahib would also stock up on pretty party dresses for the baby in the house and elegant “House Coats” for herself. The attendants there didn’t look incredulously clueless when you asked for a tea cosy cover (these days, store attendants think I am speaking in Greek if I do enquire for one, most of the time!!)

Women’s Friendly, tucked away in a gorgeous old high ceilinged bungalow beside a snaky bye-lane off upper Park Street in Calcutta was a slightly poorer cousin in terms of pricing and skill of workers, but in my opinion had prettier pieces than Good Companions sometimes. They too catered healthily to the tea bungalow’s pantry requirements. I especially liked the enamelled metallic paper tissue holders, often with hand painted roses. These were mostly black in colour and the roses seemed brighter with the dark background. Most of you will also remember the circular net glass covers with simple crochet along the edges entwined with heavy glass beads to weigh them down. These were used for the milk pot, both on the tea tray or trolley or the milk jug served beside your cornflakes. Heaven knew that they did not, even for once, stop dust particles from falling into the liquid that they were meant to protect.

Bengal Handloom Industries, diagonally opposite the Calcutta Club, on Lower Circular Road, Calcutta, was in a strategic position for the memsahibs if gingham checked linen material and cut work napkins were on the agenda. They also stocked well on carved wooden bowls, that worked so well as dining table centre pieces.

“Sandwich covers” were these intricately cut pieces of square fabric and it definitely does not exist in the usual list of words in the “thesaurus of table linen” anymore. You don’t even find them in the mentioned stores. So I prefer to make mine. These would always have embroidery of either a rooster, platter of cucumber or a basket of eggs to indicate the filling of the covered contents. I prefer to make French knot roses instead. 

Bathrooms were places of sanctity. Usually large, spacious and invariably the size of a studio apartment in modern Mumbai, these were easels for the Memsahib to practice her theme scheme skills, right from linen to accessories. Double-doored, the one opening to the lawn outside or the Chang Bungalow deck would always remain open if not in use. The ladies went berserk with their ideas.  

Annual sea- side holidays would end up as a sea shore theme in one of the many bathrooms. All of a sudden, the bath and hand towels would become teal, in colour. Beach photography would surreptitiously go up on the wooden frames hanging on the bathroom walls. Carefully collected sea shells would carelessly adorn the white painted wooden long legged table beside the wash basin. If the collection spree had been a lucky one, then the proverbial starfish shell would also find its rightful place.

“Coniferous Cave” was perhaps a more common bathroom theme. Quick unplanned weekend getaways to either Shillong or Darjeeling as the geographical terrain may have been, concluded in the car boot being stuffed sufficiently with pine cones of various species, collected off lonely hillsides on the drive up. 

Back home, these quickly embellished tooth brush holders or ended up as cistern dry flower arrangements or as topping decorations on the humble cane basket being used to cover the otherwise aesthetically ugly looking “Sanifresh” bottle. (Kindly note, in the days of yore, “sanifresh” was sold in glass bottles and not environment unfriendly plastic refills). Today I realize why our bathrooms smelled so fresh. It was because they had natural deodorizers like pinecones as well as common salt in open hidden pots. 

Hand towels existed in pairs. Never figured that one out in all these years. And the embroidery or applique (Yes!!! That was one other popular technique!) would always feature on one of the short sides. Christmas party handmade gifts invariably turned out to be hand towels. That’s why Mamma never bought any at the stores, I guess. The year’s supply would emerge from the gifts that always came with the dakwala from the gardens, along with New Year and Christmas cards.

The Jalikamra, Golkamra or dining room had one thing in common. Table runners; these varied with the space of course, in terms of design and type, but no polished teak table surface worth its salt would ever be caught without one. These would hide some part of the table, display the rest and be a canvas for the pretty brass and copper knick-knacks. Over the years, table décor gave way to crystal and cut glass replaced the humble metallic artefacts overnight. Mamma however stuck to the metal figurines and ashtrays. Heavy duty usage of “Brasso” was inevitable but the polished metal lent a warm glow that cold aquiline crystal alone, never could.  

The stories haven’t begun yet. Such a motley crew of those to share, perhaps with a generation that will cease to exist in a few decades. 

  

 Editor's note:

*Kamjari - What a tea planter wears to work - usually shorts ( with large pockets to carry magnifying lens, tape measure, etc.), cotton shirt, socks and stout lace-up shoes.

A Jali Kamra is a room that overlooks the garden in a tea bunglaow. It has a wall on one side, and is open on three sides that are covered with a 'Jali' or wire mesh. The best place in a bungalow to look out on the garden, and to sit and sip morning and evening tea, as well as evening drinks.

Gol Kamra is the drawing room - not necessarily a round room; though it is called 'gol' (round).

 

 Meet the Writer: 

 

Hi! I am Sunayana Sarkar. My father Samir Kumar Sarkar is a tea researcher. He worked at the Tea Research Association for all of the 70s and the 80s ad quite a bit of the 60s too. He was posted in Jorhat, Darjeeling, Cachar and then once again at Jorhat for a re-run. He is still working as a consultant at a few gardens in the Dooars region. The romance with the tea bush is eternal, I suppose!! 

 

I was born when the parents were at Darjeeling. Living in the Sub-Himalayas has its perks and influences. Waking up in the verdant greens and sixty shades of grey rocks has its effects too. I fell in love with nature and this planet and went on to finish a PhD at IIT Bombay at the Earth Sciences Department. I now work as professor at the Cvil Engineering department of the Narse Monjee University, Bombay. (I just realized my colonial alignment towards these old names for these cities - another effect of the tea life I suppose!) So, the romance with rocks is real and true. I also have some ongoing research going on based upon the Shillong Plateau and the plate tectonic makeup of the region and its effects on seismicity. 

 

Garden life meant looking for different ways of entertaining oneself. The babas and babies seldom had access to music and art classes and therefore the stocky stereo systems took centre stage in our lives. I listened to so many hundreds of vinyl records that I ended up being a professional musician sans training! I am the lead singer in a Blues/Rock/folk ensemble called Melange and we perform regularly. Embroidery, reading, writing, cooking, traveling, wildlife conservation, drinking tea, gardening and crochet are other equally deep passions that I try and divide my time between. Digging tea history is another quirky pastime. I love them all. 

 

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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! 
 
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