Shipra Castledine
This is a piece of tea history that a lot of tea children from the 1950/60s era will relate to. The tea plantations were full of British executives as they were brave enough to give it a go to live and work in fairly primitive and dangerous living conditions. Many of the tea estates were isolated and in the middle of forest and jungle teeming with wildlife. It was high adventure making your way to some of these plantations and many people arriving from the city were unable to take to the life. However there were many Indians who opted for the adventure, a lot of them finding it an easy way to pick up a job as the British tea companies were quite in favour of employing executives with just a secondary education.
My father was one of the Indians attracted to the life and work of a tea planter. He didn't see himself going anywhere much in his city job and decided to apply to Duncan Brothers Tea Company for a planter's job. He succeeded in his application and he was posted to Fagu T.E. in the Dooars in Northeast India. Fagu was one of the remote plantations way up in the hills and the bungalow he was assigned was situated atop the hillside. There were landslides during the monsoons and over the years the bungalow lost much of its foundation!
Well, the journey started at Dum Dum Airport where he boarded a Dakota monolith plane which had been fitted with 4 seats, enough for the number of passengers. The rest of the plane was packed with cargo. The ride was noisy as the plane had no silencing equipment. It was a behemoth but an extremely reliable flying machine. The airport in the Dooars was part of a tea estate. No runway: only a grassy stretch of land. Later my father learned that when the plane would come in to land the couple of staff operating the 'airport' from a tin shed would run out to the airfield and shoo off any goats or cattle!!
A laconic Scottish tea planter who was an assistant (whom I will name Jake) was at the airport to greet the newbies. There were two planters he was meeting, one of them my father. It was hard for these city folks to understand his Scottish accent but they got the gist of the matter : that they were to accompany him to the jeep that was waiting to ferry them to Fagu T.E. I wish I had pictures of the jeeps that were essential to tea estates in those days. They weren't a smooth ride by any stretch of the imagination but they sure traversed all sorts of terrain. The jeep rocked and bumped over rough roads (almost no roads), ploughed dangerously through little rivers and strained up inclines.
Jake was unperturbed and smoked easily through the trip whilst the two new tea planters were goggle eyed as they were jolted up and down in the jeep. The surroundings were breathtaking, with scientifically planted tea bushes on either side of the road, intersected precisely with pathways and shade trees. They drove through jungle area and pretty streams and the Scotsman informed them that elephants, tigers and leopards were a common sight. Elephants were a danger to the tea estates and the people living in them.
The jeep strained up a steep hill, finally arriving at a small bungalow which was to be the abode for the two new tea planters. A couple of servants hurried out and helped with the boys' luggage. Jake showed the boys the inside of the bungalow which he told them was called an assistants' bungalow. He lived in an assistant's bungalow too and his was larger as he was a senior assistant.
The bungalow was adequate. It had two furnished bedrooms, each with its own bathroom, a central drawing room, and a separate dining room with a pantry attached. The kitchen was an outhouse which had a covered concrete pathway leading to it. The boys were introduced to the five servants who staffed the bungalow. There was a bearer who was like a butler, the head of all the servants. Then there was a paniwala (assistant to the bearer and the cook), a bawarchi (cook), a jharoowala (sweeper), a mali (gardener) and a chowkidar (night watchman). Jake ordered the paniwala to bring tea for the boys.
This started the initiation for the new tea planters from the city. Tea came in a full service on a trolley: teapot, milk jug, sugar bowl, another little bowl with a tea strainer, and cups and saucers with teaspoons. That was on the top tray of the trolley. In the second tray were quarter plates with serviettes on each one, a platter of proper cucumber sandwiches with the crusts cut off the bread and another platter with a butter cake with strawberry icing.
I must report that the quality of cakes and baked goods was truly topnotch in the tea estates as the bawarchis were trained by memsahibs from the U.K. The other most enticing item was a plate of freshly roasted corn cobs, which they got to know was straight out of the mali bari (vegetable garden), roasted on coals and with two little sticks stuck into the top and bottom sides for ease of eating. This would become a daily tea delight in the 'bhutta' (corn) season. Butter and lime were served to be slathered on the bhutta. Later on dinner was served in the dining room. Again a proper three course meal that started with a hot cream of chicken soup followed by mains of roast mutton and gravy with steamed vegetables and mashed potatoes and a baked custard dessert. This was all served by the bearer.
The nights on a tea plantation are full of the sounds of nature - the wind rustling through the trees, the sounds of owls hooting, a squirrel scurrying over the tin roof. Sometimes you could hear the growl of a tiger or leopard. There would be evenings and nights when they would be woken with loud shouts - when elephants would wander in looking for easy food. The labourers would be waving flaming branches at the elephants that were destroying the labour quarters and trampling anything in their path.
The next morning at five a.m., the new planters were woken by the paaniwala who was on duty early in the morning. He served a tray of tea and toast to the young men. This was a chota hazri (small breakfast). He told them that they were expected to be at the factory by six a.m.
Thus begins the life of a tea planter...more to come.
'My name is Shipra Castledine nee Shipra Bose (Bunty). My parents were Sudhin and Gouri Bose. I am a tea 'baba' of the 1950-s era. I spent a part of my life growing up in the Dooars and another large part of my life married to a tea planter's son the Late KK Roy son of PK and Geeta Roy of Rungamuttee TE in the Dooars. I continued to be in the tea industry for many years as KK was a tea broker till he passed away in 1998.' .Read more by Shipra here: https://teastorytellers.blogspot.com/search/label/Shipra%20Castledine
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
This is a piece of tea history that a lot of tea children from the 1950/60s era will relate to. The tea plantations were full of British executives as they were brave enough to give it a go to live and work in fairly primitive and dangerous living conditions. Many of the tea estates were isolated and in the middle of forest and jungle teeming with wildlife. It was high adventure making your way to some of these plantations and many people arriving from the city were unable to take to the life. However there were many Indians who opted for the adventure, a lot of them finding it an easy way to pick up a job as the British tea companies were quite in favour of employing executives with just a secondary education.
My father was one of the Indians attracted to the life and work of a tea planter. He didn't see himself going anywhere much in his city job and decided to apply to Duncan Brothers Tea Company for a planter's job. He succeeded in his application and he was posted to Fagu T.E. in the Dooars in Northeast India. Fagu was one of the remote plantations way up in the hills and the bungalow he was assigned was situated atop the hillside. There were landslides during the monsoons and over the years the bungalow lost much of its foundation!
Well, the journey started at Dum Dum Airport where he boarded a Dakota monolith plane which had been fitted with 4 seats, enough for the number of passengers. The rest of the plane was packed with cargo. The ride was noisy as the plane had no silencing equipment. It was a behemoth but an extremely reliable flying machine. The airport in the Dooars was part of a tea estate. No runway: only a grassy stretch of land. Later my father learned that when the plane would come in to land the couple of staff operating the 'airport' from a tin shed would run out to the airfield and shoo off any goats or cattle!!
A laconic Scottish tea planter who was an assistant (whom I will name Jake) was at the airport to greet the newbies. There were two planters he was meeting, one of them my father. It was hard for these city folks to understand his Scottish accent but they got the gist of the matter : that they were to accompany him to the jeep that was waiting to ferry them to Fagu T.E. I wish I had pictures of the jeeps that were essential to tea estates in those days. They weren't a smooth ride by any stretch of the imagination but they sure traversed all sorts of terrain. The jeep rocked and bumped over rough roads (almost no roads), ploughed dangerously through little rivers and strained up inclines.
Jake was unperturbed and smoked easily through the trip whilst the two new tea planters were goggle eyed as they were jolted up and down in the jeep. The surroundings were breathtaking, with scientifically planted tea bushes on either side of the road, intersected precisely with pathways and shade trees. They drove through jungle area and pretty streams and the Scotsman informed them that elephants, tigers and leopards were a common sight. Elephants were a danger to the tea estates and the people living in them.
The jeep strained up a steep hill, finally arriving at a small bungalow which was to be the abode for the two new tea planters. A couple of servants hurried out and helped with the boys' luggage. Jake showed the boys the inside of the bungalow which he told them was called an assistants' bungalow. He lived in an assistant's bungalow too and his was larger as he was a senior assistant.
 |
| A recent picture of Fagu T.E. Burra Bungalow - Google images |
This started the initiation for the new tea planters from the city. Tea came in a full service on a trolley: teapot, milk jug, sugar bowl, another little bowl with a tea strainer, and cups and saucers with teaspoons. That was on the top tray of the trolley. In the second tray were quarter plates with serviettes on each one, a platter of proper cucumber sandwiches with the crusts cut off the bread and another platter with a butter cake with strawberry icing.
I must report that the quality of cakes and baked goods was truly topnotch in the tea estates as the bawarchis were trained by memsahibs from the U.K. The other most enticing item was a plate of freshly roasted corn cobs, which they got to know was straight out of the mali bari (vegetable garden), roasted on coals and with two little sticks stuck into the top and bottom sides for ease of eating. This would become a daily tea delight in the 'bhutta' (corn) season. Butter and lime were served to be slathered on the bhutta. Later on dinner was served in the dining room. Again a proper three course meal that started with a hot cream of chicken soup followed by mains of roast mutton and gravy with steamed vegetables and mashed potatoes and a baked custard dessert. This was all served by the bearer.
The nights on a tea plantation are full of the sounds of nature - the wind rustling through the trees, the sounds of owls hooting, a squirrel scurrying over the tin roof. Sometimes you could hear the growl of a tiger or leopard. There would be evenings and nights when they would be woken with loud shouts - when elephants would wander in looking for easy food. The labourers would be waving flaming branches at the elephants that were destroying the labour quarters and trampling anything in their path.
The next morning at five a.m., the new planters were woken by the paaniwala who was on duty early in the morning. He served a tray of tea and toast to the young men. This was a chota hazri (small breakfast). He told them that they were expected to be at the factory by six a.m.
Thus begins the life of a tea planter...more to come.
MEET THE WRITER:
'My name is Shipra Castledine nee Shipra Bose (Bunty). My parents were Sudhin and Gouri Bose. I am a tea 'baba' of the 1950-s era. I spent a part of my life growing up in the Dooars and another large part of my life married to a tea planter's son the Late KK Roy son of PK and Geeta Roy of Rungamuttee TE in the Dooars. I continued to be in the tea industry for many years as KK was a tea broker till he passed away in 1998.' .Read more by Shipra here: https://teastorytellers.blogspot.com/search/label/Shipra%20Castledine
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
Enjoyed this Bunty. It brings tea life back in a flash. Looking forward to the next instalment. I still have the monster toothpick like danthis to hold the corn with. Myla chowkidaar used to whittle them into shape , as also thousands of bamboo toothpicks, as the commercial ones were considered “useless” and broke mid tooth! I took a cigarette tin full of these prize picks for my Dad, who gratefully accepted them and then informed me he had a new set of dentures!
ReplyDeleteThank you for mentioning Maila chowkidar of Dalsingpara Tea Estate. What a simple, loyal and helpful person he was. I used to play Cricket with Maila daju particularly during my winter holidays at Dalsingpara T.E. burra bungalow during the 70's and early 80's..
DeleteNice story! takrs me back 50 years ago to my Dakota ride to Newlands!(Eastern Dooars)
ReplyDeleteDelightful!
ReplyDeleteSo looking forward to the next part!
It also reminds of my childhood. Jamair flight to Telepara in 1967. Father was Manager of Binaguri.
ReplyDeleteReally interesting and informative. Round about which year would this have been?
ReplyDeleteHi Raji. I'm sorry I didn't reply to your question. I can never see when a comment comes in. My father joined tea in 1953.
DeleteWonderfully written description of introduction to tea life
ReplyDeleteDelightful... I read it aloud to my dear husband...... and then and there he started narrating similar flight experience on Jamair to Binaguri in Dooars. Seats were fitted as needed along with the Cargo. He got down at a stop earlier and realized his mistake as plane started . He ran waving his hands to stop it.... just running the reel in the mind makes one reel back with laughter. What life ! you brought all the images so alive... waiting for more..
ReplyDeleteMarvellous - brings back many memories of both my early days (1940s) at Thailu TE in Cachar, where I lived as a 'butcha', and then again in Assam in the 1960s.
ReplyDeleteGood one, Bunty!
ReplyDeleteI've enjoyed the comments that tell little stories in themselves - Chinny's tin of handmade toothpicks for her father, Shalini's husband getting off at the wrong airport and Alan as 'butcha'! Can never get enough of reading about the Dooars : I never knew there was an airfield at Newlands; only knew about Telepara and Grassmore.
ReplyDeleteLoved reading your articles Bunty. Waiting patiently for more! I grew up in the jute mills here - somewhat similar. Hope you are doing well. Do get in touch when here. 9339851415.
ReplyDeleteHi Nandini. How good to see you here. I will get in touch when I am in Kolkata next.
DeleteLoved reading your articles Bunty. Waiting patiently for more! I grew up in the jute mills here - somewhat similar. Hope you are doing well. Do get in touch when here. 9339851415.
ReplyDeleteLoved reading your articles Bunty. Waiting patiently for more! I grew up in the jute mills here - somewhat similar. Hope you are doing well. Do get in touch when here. 9339851415.
ReplyDeleteNot sure if my comment is getting posted. Trying again Nandini. I said in my last comment that I will definitely contact you when I am next in Kolkata.
ReplyDelete