Newlands and New Beginnings: Tales from a Planter's Diary

by Krupa David

I have fallen in love twice in my life; once at the age of eight and once at eighteen. The first time was with my father’s old .12 bore shotgun and the second time with my present wife Jyotsna!! One of these “loves” is still with me; the other, alas! I could never possess!

My father was a keen shikari but turned into a staunch conservationist before I reached the height of his shotgun! He was a doctor and he was posted as Director, Medical Services, CP & Berar (Central provinces) in the pre-independence days. The region had some of the finest jungles in India at that time. His friends were keen shikaris and we would all go along for picnics to the forest where they would shoot. I used to pick up the empty cartridges and smell them and get a ‘high’! I must have been around eight or nine, that’s how far back I can remember.

When I passed out of college in 1967 I wanted a job badly. The main reason was that Jyoti and I were courting (we were together in school and college from class one to graduation!) and we wanted to get married. In 1967 after passing out, I joined Bajaj Steel Industries as an Executive Trainee; I realized that the pitiable stipend I was getting would never get me anywhere near marriage! I then ran off to Bombay with 30 rupees in my pocket, to my brother, and joined an advertising firm. My brother Manohar was then already with Philips as a Marketing Executive (later on in life he retired as Director) and I lived with him. 

One day at some advertising jamboree I was sitting next to a gentleman and chatting while the models were doing their bit. We got to talking about life and he asked me what my hobbies were. I told him. He said that I was wasting my time in the concrete jungle. I should go to a real jungle and that I should come and see him the next morning.

The gentleman was a Mr. D.Kapoor, a Director with Asian Cables of the Duncan Brothers group. To cut a long story short, I did not much care for Bombay so I put in my application to Duncan Brothers & Co for the post of an Assistant Manager. I was subsequently interviewed, selected and thereafter medically examined – fore and aft-- by the good Dr.C.K.M.Thacker! I still remember Dr.Thacker; poor man is no more now. He had his chambers on Chittaranjan Avenue in a dingy, dreary building. The medical report declaring me fit was sent to Duncans and I was told to collect the appointment letter!

I was in seventh heaven now, as the pay offered was good (Rs 650/- per month + some allowances. Later on you got Rs 100/- if you had a wife and Rs 250/- if you had a pony - most opted for the pony!!) And I was to have a bungalow and servants and what I now needed was a wife. I was already hatching my marriage plans, little realizing what was in store for me! 

When I went to collect my appointment letter from Messrs.’ Duncan Brothers & Co, I was horrified to learn that there was an embargo on getting married during the first contract (three years)!  This, I believe was the rule in all tea companies and this rule still exists. In those days it was strictly enforced. 

I went back to Nagpur and broke the sad news to Jyoti. We however decided to get formally engaged and this happened on the 2nd of June 1969. The next day I was back in Calcutta and before I realized it, on the 6th of June, I was put on a rickety Jamair (a World War II Dakota) flight. We left at 4.50 in the morning for Newlands Airfield in the Jainti Sankos Sub District of the Dooars in North Bengal. This area was known as the “corner” as it was bounded on three sides: by Bengal, Assam and Bhutan. There were three tea gardens belonging to Duncans in this belt, Newlands to the east bordering the Rydak river (on whose land the airfield and club were situated), Sankos which was right adjacent to the Assam border bordering the Sankosh river, and Kumargram which was sandwiched in between.

Pic by R.A.Scholefield from this website 

I was the new Assistant Manager of Kumargram Tea Garden. East, West and North were thickly forested, and in those days, were a haven for wild life. Both, the Rydak River and the Sankosh, harbored trout in the upper reaches and huge Mahasheer in the lower. Jimmy Gilchrist, when he was at Sankos, had a record 56 pounder Mahasheer!

Apart from two suitcases and a bicycle, I was carrying with me a massive hangover from the previous night, having imbibed one too many at the ‘Princess’, Oberoi! I was in a bad mood as the lissome lass who did the strip turned out to be a male! What a letdown.

Along with me on the flight was another passenger, Navin Huria whom I had met at the Jamair office on Ganesh Chandra Avenue. Navin was posted at Sankos Tea Garden and was returning after his first leave. Subsequently we became the thickest of buddies and we remain so even today. We were accompanied on the flight by an assortment of crates from Great Eastern Stores and United Supply Agency, containing various provisions for the planters upcountry.

Along with these were crates of beer and liquor to cater to the “spiritual” needs of the planting community till the next flight rolled in two week later! The icing on the cake was a large bamboo crate consisting of a couple of turkeys and a few geese. The flight was terrible! I was sick with my hangover and the cabin reeked of aviation fuel, turkey and geese shit. And beer. I think one of the crates of beer had split open.

The flight took about two hours and finally we were circling around the airfield. I looked out the window and was expecting to see a proper airport with a tarmac ked runaway and domestic terminal. All I saw was an open football field, cows being chased all over and set in one corner a corrugated tin roofed shed! Close by was another more “pukka” building which later I knew was the Jainti Sankos Club. I could also see a large yellow tractor perched at one end of the so called runway. This, I was told later, was to pull out the aircraft in case it got bogged down in the mud!

We circled for around 15 minutes till all the cattle and goats were chased off the field. Once the all clear was given the pilot prepared for his decent and soon we landed with a jarring thud - only to bounce up again! This repeated itself twice more before the plane came to a halt with a jerk, just short of the line of tea bushes.  I later came to know that this was not some heroic flying feat of the pilot; we were in fact forced to come to a halt as the nose wheel was embedded in six inches of mud!

Soon the yellow tractor swung into action assisted by a gang of coolies and we were swung around and towed to where a large group of men and women representing the planting community of the Jainti Sankos sub district were standing.

 I was quite touched to see that there were so many people who had come to receive us. This I thought was truly the legendary ‘planters’ spirit’. Sadly I was disillusioned by Navin, who laughingly said, ‘They are not here to receive you, but have come to collect their cold stores that has arrived in crates along with us’! So much for the planters’ spirit! He however said the Manager or the Senior Assistant would be there with a transport to receive me and take me to my garden.

It was pouring with rain,  the month being June. I stepped out of the aircraft wearing my ‘cowboy’ hat! And no umbrella.  A slim spare Scotsman of medium height walked towards me and said, ‘Are you the young lad come to join Kumargram?’ I replied in the affirmative and he smiled, ‘Welcome! I am Mr. Anderson, Senior Manager Kumargram - and you can call me Andy!’

He was the legendary A.B.Anderson known as ‘fighting Andy’ as after the second large whiskey he was ready to take on a tiger bare handed!(Alan Macdonald our Director in Calcutta had told me about Mr. Anderson, ‘He will not mind you calling him Andy, but will not let you forget that he is the Burra Sahib!’

I liked him instantly. He wanted to share his umbrella with me but I politely declined and told him that I understood that this was an ‘outdoor’ job and that getting wet was expected! This apparently went down very well with him and he said, ‘Well, laddie! I can see you’re going to be a great planter!’ I never carried an umbrella ever after that in all my years in tea.  

Kumargram Burra Bungalow - pic from Mapio.net

“Let’s collect your ‘jiti miti’ and push off, but first let me introduces you to some of our neighbors” .I was introduced first to Nick Lowden, Manager of Newlands, and his wife Elma. Nick looked like a movie star, a handsome man very nattily dressed in white shorts, polished shoes and a white shirt. Next I was introduced to Dick Simpson and his wife Dolly - from Sankos, where Dick was the Manager (and where in later years I was to become Manager).He was another Scot with a pretty broad accent! Dolly was a pretty lady and theirs happened to be a love marriage. Dolly was a nurse in Woodlands Nursing Home at Calcutta and Dick had met her there on one of his medical visits.

I met other senior and junior assistants from the three gardens and some wives. Some of the names I can remember, Dinesh Sharma, Sarit Mohan Dev (Jhunu), Surjit Singh (Silent Sam he was called), Eric Thompson, Mat Summers and Dr.Sarker the M.O. Everyone was having a jolly good time and some were standing near the bar- I am not sure whether the bar was open or not but the ladies had set up a table with some eats and some hot tea! It all had a party atmosphere. Talking to some of the Scottish expatriates, I was finding it difficult to understand their accent. These outings, I was told, took place twice a month when the plane came in with provisions and took back a load of tea chests for the Calcutta auction.

Talking of broad Scots accents, the conversation between Jock McRae of Leesh River and me went like this - I just could not decipher his brogue!

After a few minutes of a one sided conversation Jock said, “Lad, either ye are deaf or else ye are dumb which is it?”!

I was taken aback! “Well, Jock! I said I can hear you, which shows I am not deaf; I am talking to you, so I can’t be dumb! However, if you were to speak in English then maybe I could understand and take part in the conversation!”

The bar erupted in laughter. For a moment I thought that Jock would biff me one. But he too laughed and took my comment in good spirit! It was pretty cheeky of me, I later realized. However, he had his own back, when he sold me his Ford V8 a year later! – What a piece of junk!

All this time I was wondering what ‘jiti miti’ had I to collect be it something I forgot to bring with me. Later it was clarified that this was the local planters’ slang for one’s kit. We were soon loaded up in the jeep and headed out to the garden which was about ten minutes away. Andy said that I was to have breakfast with him and change into dry clothes and then he would put me in charge of the senior assistant Bipin Tandon with whom I was to share a bungalow till I was allotted one of my own.

I was met warmly by Mrs. Anderson who to my surprise turned out to be a lady from amongst the local tribal labour! She was a motherly and a wonderful person but with little English. She was called ‘Wendy’ but her real name was Budhni which in the local lingo means Wednesday - hence Wendy. The Andersons had three lovely daughters and a son. They were away to boarding school. I was told the daughters were very pretty!

Wendy was a real senior Burra Memsahib. In the club she would sit regally on the barstool with a cigarette in a foot long slim holder and order drinks all around! The other Managers’ wives were junior and always gave her the respect she warranted.

Wendy called us in for breakfast. I had dried out and changed. I was hungry and had had nothing since the previous night’s dinner at the Grand, Calcutta. As I have mentioned I was nursing a hangover when I boarded the flight, but in all the excitement it seemed to have vanished! I tucked into a bowl of fruit, followed by eggs, bacon and hot toast. We had our tea on the verandah where Andy soon gave me a brief lecture on what was expected of me and what a planter’s life would be.

“Life is not all shikar, fishing, tennis and booze”, he said! “It’s a hard life, and rewarding in a number of ways. Play hard, work hard and you will do well”.

He continued,“I am going to give you some important advice. Do not ever   sh...t on your own doorstep!”

I was a bit confused, and my look must have told him so. He then went on to explain the facts of life vis a vis the biological needs of young, hot blooded bachelors.

I quickly put his mind to rest by bringing out Jyoti’s photograph from my wallet and showing it to him, saying that we had got engaged just five days ago and that I had no intention of indulging in any such ‘biological’ activities!

He was most relieved!

Sankosh River - pic from IndiaNetzone