The Mudis Sports Day

by Rajesh Thomas 

 

The Bombay Burmah Trading Corporation has five estates in the Annamallais planting district in South India. They are popularly known as the "The Mudis Group of estates". The Singampatti Group of the Company is situated much further south, almost touching Cape Comorin. It is a unique planting district, in the sense that it is in the middle of the Kalakad / Mundanthorai Tiger Reserve and there are no other plantations in the vicinity.

 

The author is highly indebted to Mr.M.L.Devassy, retired Personnel Manager, BBTC, & Mr. Prashant Aiyappa, Manager Dunsandle Estate, BBTC for the valuable information and photographs that they have shared. 

 

Some recent pics of the Mudis Sports Day

For an approaching visitor, the spectacle would have been novel. The sight of the road winding through the tea fields and suddenly sloping towards the sports ground, with milling masses vying for vantage spots. Towards one side of the ground stand eight ladies in a row in colorful saris hitched up with a pot of water on their head. At the sound of the starter’s gun the ladies, with the roar of the encouraging crowd spurring them on, sprint fifty meters and empty their mud pots on the two surprised young aspiring planters fresh out of college trying to judge the race.

The crowd roars in laughter as the young Sinnadorais (Assistant Managers in Tamil), drenched completely, return sheepishly to the pavilion. Welcome to the Mudis sports day and you have just witnessed the 'chatty' race (chatty means mud pot in Tamil). 

 

But not all Sinnadorais take it lying down: Kenny Sreshta was reputed to have taken one full round of the track trying to escape the speedy Mudis lasses - in vain. Sandy Gumoan, with presence of mind, ran straight to the refreshments tent, grabbed a soft drink bottle and retaliated by spraying the contents at the surprised ladies. The dapper Roy Machia, dressed smartly in jacket /tie and aviators, was taken totally by surprise much to every one’s enjoyment. It was generally acknowledged that this as the initiation for the young SDs into the company.

Come January 26th every year the day the masses from the surrounding group estates throng the lush green grounds of the Mudis Staff club. A day eagerly anticipated by the crowds dressed in their Sunday best- a full day of fun and entertainment. It is also a day when the workers and staff from the group estates put on their running shoes to show off their athletic prowess: the day of the Annual Inter-Estate Athletics Meet for the Mudis group of Estates. A unique feature in the BBTC estates, rarely seen in any of the other plantation groups in South India.

It is also a tribute to the olden days' planters' love for sports and the encouragement they gave all employees for participation in sporting activities. As children growing up in Mudis, every year we looked forward eagerly to the sports day along with the inter estate football and volleyball matches, cheering for the estates where our fathers were posted.

Petty shops and hawkers mysteriously turned up on the magic day: fleecing the crowd, hoping to make a quick buck, with the odd arrack seller selling his moonshine discreetly in the tea bushes. As the afternoon wore on, the crowds, suitably encouraged, would begin to take a more vociferous interest in the proceedings, shouting encouragement interspersed with the choicest abuses at the competitors who failed to measure up to their standards.

 The Mudis Staff club the day before Sports Day

Competitions were there for all, including the Managers, who invariably were given tasks generally unique; usually, it was the slow cycle race. One year, a table tennis ball throwing contest was organized for the Managers and Ray Steele (a favorite with the workers), a hulk of a man, without anyone knowing substituted a golf ball for the ping pong ball and threw it further than anyone who had thrown the ping pong ball much to the crowd's delight! The crowd of course was in the dark about the substitution..

As the afternoon wore on came the blue riband event of the day - the tug of war, when the heavyweights stepped on the turf to match strengths - followed by the Fancy Dress competition.

Both pix by Ratheesh Kumar

The credit for starting the sports day in Singampatti belongs to D.D.Khanwilkar much later in 1983. The athletics took place at the Kakachi Golf course. The starting years in Singampatti, to put it mildly, were simply hilarious. The workforce, not exposed to the nuances of athletics,  took some years to settle. It was difficult to dissuade the crowd from running behind the competitors during the race, as it was common to have a whole bevy of supporters cheering and running behind the competitors for the entire race!

The sports day at Singampatti was held on May 1st and was preceded by the inter estate volley ball tournament. With the estates from the Singampatti group being more isolated and less exposed to the outside world the rivalry between the estates was much fiercer especially during the volleyball matches, leading to allegations of favoritism. This forced the company to bring a qualified referee from the Sports Authority of India, Tirunelveli, to officiate the matches.

Later on the same Ref, who was also a qualified coach, came to my school in Tirunelveli to conduct a volleyball coaching camp. When he found out my father was working in Singampatti he mentioned how tough he found it to umpire the volley ball matches due to the crowd fervor and involvement, which, according to him, he had not witnessed even when he was umpiring interstate matches.  

 

The final event of the sports day was the cross- country race, which invariably was won by the runners from the distant divisions. The sports meet saw some highly talented athletes who excelled year after year and became crowd favorites. From the staff, there were some champion athletes like John Philip, Thomas Joseph, Somasundaram, Arularaj and David Dhanaraj, who regularly won trophies every year and were crowd favorites.
 

Mrs.Kanchan Sanyal distributing the prizes. Pix by J Wilson

 

 

Mrs. Rani Jothikumar giving away the prizes. Pix by Ratheesh Kumar

                                     
At the end, there was an overall rolling trophy for the best estate. It was with a lot pride that the workers from the winning estate carried the trophy back, with a lot of sloganeering in Tamil.

Some of the athletes became so proficient that they began to flaunt their talent at state level athletic meets supported by the company. One of the most enduring stories was of Muniandy, a worker from Gajam Mudi Estate. His father was a bootlegger who had his operations inside the Eucalyptus Plantations of the company which bordered the Tea Fields, and young Muniandy used to sprint carrying the bottles on his head to sell them and on the return trip carry uphill the ingredients for the next brew.

This uphill/ downhill trip he did often every day. My father, at that time the manager of Gajam Mudi, happened to see this lad run. He persuaded him to take part in the cross country race in the coming sports meet, which he won with considerable ease. Then he was a made a permanent worker in Gajam Mudi and was often sent to participate in state-level meets across Tamil Nadu. Over a short period, Muniandy became a champion long distance runner and a force to reckon with at the state level. At one such meet, he was spotted by the officers from Tuticorin Port Trust, who recruited him on the spot, on their sports quota.

Well, who says dreams don’t come true!

 

Stalwarts of the BBTC Group Mr.Angus McNaughtan addressing the gathering at Mudis Staff Club function. Seated from Left Mr.Nikoo Rawley ( partly hidden), Mr.A.K.Hirijee, Mr.James Gibbons and Dr.K.T.Mathew. 

 

 

Author's Notes:

An intro to the Mudis Staff Club: The club was formed in 1929 and operated out of the building where the present Mudis Police Station is. The present clubhouse was built in 1948 and has remained as a social and sporting hub for the staff of the BBTC estates. The clubhouse is an imposing building situated at a height giving the spectators a bird’s eye view of the action below. A set of triangular steps lead down to the manicured turf below and it creates an electrifying atmosphere when the footballers and cricketers walk down the steps.

Chatty Race is a fifty meter dash for women with mud pots filled with water on their head. Before the race the participants are told the winner is the first competitor to reach the finish line and empty their pots on the judges. The judges are some greenhorn Assistant Managers who have recently joined the group and are not aware that they are going to be drenched. This is a regular event every year and eagerly anticipated by everyone.

Slow cycle race is generally over a short distance of twenty to thirty meters, where the winner is the last to reach the finish line without their feet touching the ground.

                                                                                  
Meet the writer: Rajesh Thomas

Rajesh is a second generation planter who was born and brought up in the tea districts of South India. Don't miss out on his other stories - Click on this link to read them: https://teastorytellers.blogspot.com/search/label/J.Rajesh%20Thomas 

Is this your first visit here? Welcome to Indian Chai Stories!
You will meet many storytellers here at Indian Chai Stories, and they are almost all from the world of tea gardens: planters, memsaabs, baby and baba log. Each of our contributors has a really good story to tell - don't lose any time before you start reading them! 

 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

A Road ‘Beyond The Fringe’

'A nostalgic drive down the road to Nagrakata T.E. While memories blur, the vision of Nagrakata as it was fifty-five years ago still seems fresh'.
 writes Aloke Mookerjee


Prologue: Aloke arrived  at Grassmore on a Jamair flight, and he has described this journey in his story 'Unto the Unknown'  (please click on the name to read the whole story). 
He writes: 'The cabin door opened with a loud clang and I stepped out into a morning bathed in bright and clear sunshine. Ahead, a black and white windsock was fluttering gently in the cool early morning breeze. In a corner of the airfield, I could see a large tin shed that served as Jamair’s godown. A couple of tea garden ‘lorries’ were parked alongside, presumably, to collect their cargo brought in by the aircraft. A sporty ‘Standard Herald’ car was parked close to them, with what appeared to be a planter in shorts and an open necked shirt leaning against it. He turned out to be the other Assistant Manager of Nagrakata Tea Estate, waiting for me.' Read on...

Following introductions, my escort, Chand Kapoor, got me and my scant baggage into his new white Standard Herald motor car and we set off bumping along a narrow dirt track with tea bushes on either side. I was told we were driving through Grassmore Tea Estate, one of the five plantations owned by my employers, The Dooars Tea Company. The airfield land belonged to Grassmore, with the management responsible for its upkeep. Behind me, the roar of the old Dakota indicated the start of her onward journey to Telepara and then onto Newlands in the far east of the Dooars region.

It was not a long drive through the plantation and we were soon exiting the dirt track to turn onto a narrow tarmac road. Out from the confines of the plantation and its screen of shade trees, the view opened to reveal the wide expanse of an arrestingly attractive countryside at the foothills of the Himalayas. On its northern boundaries, the Kingdom of Bhutan, with the back drop of towering mountains, looked down majestically upon this lush green land. It appeared glorious; a startling contrast to the sterile city I had just left behind. The deep red colour of the ground all around seemed abundantly fertile even to an uninitiated novice. I was told that it was known to all as the 'red-bank' soil of the Dooars, rich in nutrients and organic matter and well suited to tea cultivation.

Towards the latter half of the nineteenth century, twelve tea plantations were established here by adventurous entrepreneurs on land granted by the then British rulers. They came from various walks of life but had in common the grit and gumption to plant tea on virgin grounds and create wealth from this new lucrative crop. Setting up what are now thriving tea estates was a remarkable achievement considering the remote location, the primitive living conditions and the hostile environment where wild animals and tropical diseases struck – often with fatal consequences.

Their toil in such extreme conditions payed off and, in the decades that followed, the tea estates flourished to support a large and growing population of varied ethnicity. The plantation workers were mainly tribals who had been relocated here from their original abode at the Chota Nagpur plateau in what are now Jharkhand and Chattisgarh as also from the Koraput and Ganjam areas of Odisha. A sprinkling of Nepali workers from the Darjeeling/Kalimpong hills nearby completed the motley group of the labour force. The Bengalis occupied almost all the clerical positions in the plantation offices.

Before the national highway through the Dooars was built, the one lane tarmac track we were now driving on linked Nagrakata with Siliguri, the commercial hub of North Bengal, to its west and to Assam in its east. The road meandered through dense tropical forests opening up to large stretches of rice paddy and verdant valleys with narrow bridges across stony mountain streams and rivers. From the rivers Teesta in the west of the Dooars to Jainti, Sankos, Toorsa and Rydak in the vicinity of its eastern boundaries, the region was gloriously unspoilt. The forests abounded with free roaming animals and birds of many varieties and the rivers teeming with fish. It was not unusual to encounter wild elephants or sambhars and cheetals, leopards, leopard cats, wild pigs, and if luck favoured, a Royal Bengal Tiger in all its majesty. Occasionally, small clusters of thatched roof huts with mud plastered walls half concealed within luxuriant bamboo and banana groves, would come in view looking tranquil in the dappled sunlight. The population was not overpowering yet and life in the villages of North Bengal was still relatively easy.

The Club
 Soon after, we were driving over a narrow one-way wooden bridge across what I learnt was, the ‘Ghatia Nadi’ and a little later, a small ‘bungalow’ style structure with a green corrugated iron roof appeared on the right. I was told that this building in the midst of a well maintained nine-hole golf course was Nagrakata Club, the entertainment hub of the planters in its vicinity. The towering blue mountains of the lower Himalayas formed an imposing backdrop for this isolated structure conspicuous by its singular presence, seemingly, in the midst of ‘nowhere’. I would soon enough learn what this charming yet unpretentious little building meant to our lives in the far-out land of tea.

The planter members of Nagrakata Club, including wives, could not have exceeded sixty individuals yet the club maintained three lawn tennis courts, one hard court, a cricket field, a football/rugby field and a nine-hole golf course. Inside there was a library, a billiards table, a ping-pong table, card tables and finally the well-stocked bar, where the ‘meetha-pani walas’ were eyed with derision and disdain! The changing rooms were well equipped with hot and cold showers, easy chairs and benches. The ladies’ powder room with its comfortable upholstered sofas and tall mirrors was all luxury that pampered to the whims of the fastidious ‘memsaabs’. A hall with a projector room at one end and a small neat stage with a cinema screen at the other completed the available facilities. There were no air-conditioners. No one missed them despite the hot and humid weather of the summer and monsoon months.

Full membership with credit facilities was extended to the new planter immediately on his arrival. In addition, reciprocal membership facility allowed him free access to all the other planters’ clubs located in various tea districts across the entire tea region including the town clubs of the Dooars and Assam. The planting community consisted of a disparate crew comprising Englishmen, Scotsmen, Irishmen and Welshman from the UK along with a growing number of Indians and Anglo Indians, from across the country, who had begun to replace the expatriates.

Television was a distant dream. Home entertainment was limited to the wireless radio or music from vinyl records. Sound devices ranged from the ancient valve radio sets to the simple battery-operated record player. The new radios with their ‘piano key’ controls were considered a great advancement and high in aesthetics as compared to the decrepit old models with rotating knobs! Occasionally, the trendy ‘Ahuja’ radiogram with its lacquered lustrous coating would appear conspicuously in the ‘gol kamra’ of its proud owner. Its gleaming presence with the ‘hi-fi’ sounds, were impressive enough to attract the envious eyes of the deprived and reason enough for the demand of a celebratory drink or two. The promise of an impromptu party was now definitely hovering in the air!

There were no cinema halls, restaurants or bars to speak of. The clubs were thus created by the pioneers as the centre of their entertainment and extra-curricular activities where they met on certain evenings of the week when its doors opened for sports and the weekly cinema show. A strictly enforced dress code ensured all male members wore a tie with full sleeved shirts and trousers for the Sunday night cinema shows. In the hot and humid months of summer and rains, it was all too common to see the male members attired in their well washed, starched and pressed white cotton trousers with an equally white full sleeved cotton shirt and neck tie. Blazers or jackets with trousers or lounge suits formed the cold weather wear. It would be many years before this dress code was relaxed sufficiently enough to allow for the more comfortable and practical open necked shirts in the summer and monsoon months.

To ensure a full turnout, the senior planters severely disapproved any form of private home entertainment on club days unless, of-course, all the members were invited! While, many, today, would consider such controls as rather ‘autocratic’, it did succeed in gathering individuals from diverse backgrounds and cultures, at one venue, and knit them together for a common purpose by making them integral to the many memorable events regularly organized by the key members. ‘Club life’ thus came to be ‘sacrosanct’ for all.

Other than the club, the precinct of Nagrakata boasted of a lone fuel filling station, a small post and telegraph office, one tiny provision store, a dated magneto telephone exchange and a catholic mission. There was also a small police-post with two lethargic constables of weedy visage in attendance. It would be some years before the importance of establishing an efficient police post here was realised.

Chhawachharia’s
Chhawachharia’s petrol station appeared soon after the Club on this seemingly insignificant road. Owing to its location at a junction, where roads from three directions converged, this station became a prominent landmark for motorists passing by. Its one and only petrol dispensing machine was a rare antiquity with its pair of the one-gallon glass bottles, prominently in view, wherein petrol was manually pumped up with a lever, alternately filling one bottle whilst the other emptied its swirling amber contents into the tank of the vehicle!

Chawachharia, the Marwari owner of the station, met all the fuel requirements of the plantations within Nagrakata area. A wobbly two storey wooden bungalow standing isolated on stilts, in the midst of tall trees and greenery, acted as his office and residence. One could not but admire the Marwari’s sense of enterprise and pioneering spirit for creating a thriving business activity in such a primitive location. Chawachharia was a tall, lanky and bespectacled person with affable ways cloaking a shrewd nature. By allowing easy credit to the planters, the reckless and the wild would often build up huge unpaid bills with scant regard to the consequences.

Eventually unable to clear the accumulated dues, some would, as a last resort, relinquish their only means of mobility to this wily individual who would accept the reimbursement with a well rehearsed doleful look and sorrowful eyes. On having acquired his new asset, the canny Marwari moved swiftly to dispose it off for a hefty sum leaving the erstwhile owner quietly cursing and kicking himself. The ‘hefty’ sum would be amusing by our current standards as one could acquire an used Austin, Morris, Hillman or Ford in decent condition at the price of a pair of shoes today! The cost of mobility, whether by foot or wheels, seems to have gone a long way!

Tigers of the Teesta
The road forked at the petrol station with one that went west to Siliguri across the river Teesta over the iconic ‘Coronation Bridge’. Another small road, not far from the petrol station, branched out and went south towards Jalpaiguri, the administrative headquarters of North Bengal, also located across the River Teesta. The Coronation Bridge remained the sole link between the Dooars and Jalpaiguri through a long circuitous route via Siliguri. However, when necessary, we preferred the much shorter route by taking the road near Chawachharia’s petrol pump. This track wound its way southwards through the countryside past the tiny towns of Lataguri and Moynaguri to reach the banks of the Teesta across which was the quaint North Bengal district headquarters. On arrival at the riverside, we would drive across its stony bed but only in the dry cold weather months when the turbulent waters of this temperamental and sometimes devastatingly life threatening river roaring down from the Himalayas, had receded sufficiently to enable ‘fair weather’ crossings in a motor car.

Many taxies were available at the riverside to ferry those arriving without their own transport. Endearingly dubbed as ‘The Tigers of the Teesta’, these taxies of the ‘nineteen thirties’ vintage formed an enchanting fleet comprising Fords, Chevrolets and Buicks, complete with wire wheels, canvas tops and klaxon horns! The bevy of the fading beauties would be seen clipping happily along across the river bed carrying their load of passengers all day long with a jaunty confidence that put many younger vehicles to shame.

Along with these narrow bumpy tarmac tracks, a metre gauge railway line through the Dooars, formed its life supporting arteries by connecting this pristine expanse to the rest of the country. Without them this bountiful land would have remained out of reach and sight to many.

Teesta River at Japaiguri. Image: Wikivisually

AG Division & The Tea Research Centre
 Back at Chhawachharia’s, a road also turned right to climb gently past the Dooars Branch of ITA’s (Indian Tea Association) Tea Research Centre (as the Nagrakata branch of the TRA was then known) located within the ‘AG Division’ of Bhogotpore Tea Estate. ‘AG’ stood for ‘Alston’s Grant’ – Alston being the pioneer who planted tea here in about 400 acres of virgin land granted to him by the British rulers towards the end of the nineteenth century. Grants such as this allowed tea to develop and flourish across the Assam valley and the Dooars, Darjeeling and Terai regions of North Bengal.

Sukhani Jhora
Left of this road opposite the AG Division, a mountain stream from the Bhutan hills had over many centuries cut deep into the ground of red earth and boulders to form a steep and narrow ravine now covered by tall trees and dense vegetation. I would soon learn that this stream, locally known as ‘Sukhani Jhora’, was an important source of water for Nagrakata Tea Estate. Recalling his early planting days, Keith Turner, a senior manager of the Dooars Tea Company related once to me how, in the past, the blood curdling roars of Royal Bengal Tigers would often be heard here. Now, only leopards, jackals and the odd wild pig could be spotted from time to time. The great striped cats had retreated – away from the ever encroaching and marauding humans. The Sukhanbari Division (name derived from the Sukhani Jhora) of Nagrakata Tea Estate could be seen across the ravine through gaps between the trees and foliage.

The Post Office and The Dakwallas
The tiny Nagrakata Post Office now passed by on our right. This was the venue where the ‘Dakwallas’ of all the plantations within the precincts of Nagrakata congregated daily with their leather bags filled with letters and parcels. The humble bicycle was the sole means of transport for this sturdy breed. They would pedal long distances, over undulating and often steeply inclined roads to post and collect the outstation mail for the estate and exchange all local correspondence between plantations. The collected mail would, without fail, reach the plantation offices during lunch break of every working day and placed on the Manager’s table in a neat pile, ready and waiting for his post lunch arrival. When facilities for instant mail were still beyond imagination and the realms of reality, our pedal pushing communication system worked unfailingly day after day through rain, hail or shine.

The Telephone Exchange
The small one roomed Nagrakata Telephone Exchange also appeared in the vicinity of the Post Office. It connected the tea estate offices, the club, the Central Hospital, the Manager’s bungalows, Chhawachharia, the Catholic Mission, the police post and other miscellaneous subscribers of the non-planting community. Assistant Managers were excluded from this ‘exalted’ (but, in reality, a rather dubious) facility. For their personal communications when a phone call became necessary, the Assistants would rely either on the office telephone or after hours, if urgency demanded, remain obliged to the Manager for the use of the ‘Burra Bungalow’ instrument. Cranking a small handle attached to the heavy Bakelite magneto instrument for access to the operator of the dated exchange was, more often than not, an exercise fraught with frustration and futility. Yet life continued smoothly enough without the seamless connectivity that we are now so accustomed to.

Dey Stores
Dey Stores came up next on this road to Nagrakata Tea Estate. The tiny shop stocked provisions required for the household. In all my years in Nagrakata, I never did meet the owner, Mr Dey, although I was told he did indeed exist! Instead, the diminutive Mrs. Dey, with her head invariably covered with one end of her limp cotton sari, would always be available to meet the customers’ needs. In the small dark room, lit up by one hurricane lantern, she stocked all that was needed for the home from ‘Brasso’ and ‘Silvo’ polishes to ‘Brylcream’, toothbrushes and toothpastes, bread, butter, salt and sugar, cooking oils, ketchups, squashes, cordials and tinned foods. ‘Mansion’ and ‘Red Cardinal’ Polishes for furniture and floors were provided by the company free of cost (as were ‘Flit’ and a flit gun to keep the ubiquitous mosquitoes at bay).

White Label, White Horse and VAT 69 whiskies, Carews Gin and XXX Rosa Rum were, at times, enticingly displayed on the shelf. Mrs. Dey also stocked Three Castles, Players No.3, Players Navy Cut and Gold Flake brands in the popular cylindrical canisters of 50 cigarettes. A canister with a matchbox atop held firmly in one hand (when not inside the ample pocket of our fashionably floppy shorts or trousers) came to be the standard portrait of the well-heeled planter. Credit was always available and so this tiny lantern lit shack with its rusty tin roof and earthen floor became the pillar of support to our ‘high’ living!

The alluring ‘icing on the cake’ of high living, however, appeared from beyond the confines of Dey Stores and across the boundaries of the Dooars. The Great Eastern Stores of Chowringhee Road, a prominent retailer of quality food products in Calcutta was ever ready to meet our requirement of food items not available ‘up-country’. Upon receiving our written order, this ‘venerable’ store would promptly prepare the food parcel and hand it over to Jamair to be flown up to us for collection.

To our delight, the insulated ice-boxes containing such delectables as fresh ham, bacon, sausages, pork chops, and sometimes a tender undercut (eye fillets) would always arrive in perfect condition to be relished till the next consignment! The convenience of credit cards did not come to mind as none were in existence. A planter’s credit worthiness was, however, never in question and he rarely needed a wallet in his pocket (not quite the ‘Royalty’ style but imperious enough!). A mere signed slip of paper listing the purchases was all that was required by the shop owner. This facility was available at virtually every store starting from the smallest estate kyah shops to bigger ones in the ‘one horse’ towns across the Dooars and even extending to some of the large established stores of Calcutta. It made our shopping sprees perhaps a trifle too convenient.

St. Capitanio
Soon after Dey Stores, in a sparsely populated locality known as ‘Champaguri’, a large drab grey concrete edifice appeared, on the right of the road, contrasting strangely with the lush greenery all around. I was told that this was St. Capitanio, an Italian Roman Catholic Mission established more than forty years before my arrival. The Italian mission head, Father Artico is to be credited for the decades of his dedicated service since its inception at a time when very few would have ventured into this remote and inhospitable region. The catholic workers from the nearby plantations congregated here every Sunday for their morning mass. Christmas was celebrated with great fanfare and enthusiasm – the highlight, of-course being the Midnight Mass, which the catholic plantation workers attended from far and near.

The Raintree
And finally, forming another prominent landmark on this road, the wondrous spectre of a huge green and lustrous Raintree loomed up before us immediately after the Catholic mission. Massive, with ample spreading boughs, it stood in glory deeply rooted as a silent sentinel of the road and territory around it. The road forked here. One that continued straight, climbing gently up past Nya Sylee and Hope Tea Estates and thence downhill onto Jiti plantation with the Kingdom of Bhutan beyond. The other fork turned sharply to the left in front of the raintree and rolled quickly down to Sukhani Jhora. Thereafter, over a small one-way wooden bridge across the stony mountain stream, the road continued and climbed steeply uphill to the gates of Nagrakata Tea Estate. And so, it was that, in a mere few hours, I found myself catapulted far from the familiar bustling metropolis of Calcutta, to begin a new life in the wonderous Dooars, somewhere ‘beyond the fringe’!

Click here to link to images of Nagrakata on Facebook 

A raintree somewhere on the Birpara-Falakata road, Dooars, 2008

Editor's Note: 
Nadi/Nuddy - river
Meetha Pani - soft drink
Gol Kamra - drawing room 
Kyah -  a trader running a small shop with basic supplies in the tea garden
 
Meet the writer:

Aloke Mookerjee

 Here's what Aloke has to say about himself : 'Long retired from tea, but still active in business. Even after all these years, tea remains to live strongly in my thoughts; they were the best years of my life. Other interests? Always loved Jazz music - still do and have written about this incredible genre. Love vintage airplanes (thus my love for Dakotas!) and cars, and intend to make this my next focus.' Aloke's also written The Eager Beaver , A Spiritual Encounter, Gillanders and the Greenhorn and Unto the Unknown for Indian Chai Stories. Here is the link to all posts by Aloke - https://teastorytellers.blogspot.com/search?q=aloke


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

You will meet many storytellers here at Indian Chai Stories, and they are almost all from the world of tea gardens: planters, memsaabs, baby and baba log. Each of our contributors has a really good story to tell - don't lose any time before you start reading them!

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

David and Goliath

by Bernard VanCuylenberg
My Dad had the knack of giving life to a good story, and whenever my brother, sister and I came home for the holidays from boarding school, he would regale us with these stories round the dinner table. On dark nights in a lonely estate bungalow we sat riveted to our seats "living" the adventures ! My Mum would terminate proceedings when it became too late and sleep was forgotten ! I first heard the Bracegirdle story when I was fourteen years old and I remember the way my Dad related it, Bracegirdle almost came to life ! Many years later "The Sunday Observer" in its special features section printed the story, which I read more than once. However this time, I accept full responsibility, and apologize for any errors. After 64 years, the memory tends to play tricks - and I am writing this drawing on my memory bank ! But the essence of the story is factual and occurred as stated.

Madulkelle tea country: pic from Wildcard Travels blog copyright Anne Schreiber Thomas

During the colonial period of the late 1930's, a tea plantation in the Madulkelle district Relugas Estate, was the place where what appeared to be a simple act of insubordination by an Assistant Superintendent, was to have far reaching consequences and wider ramifications not only for the company concerned, but for the colonial government of the time and a left leaning socialist political party called the "Lanka Sama Samaja Party", (The Lanka Socialist Party) popularly known as the LSSP. The "David" in this case was a young assistant superintendent named Mark Bracegirdle and the "Goliath" was the government of the day - at first glance an uneven match.

The Superintendent of this particular estate Mr.H.D.Thomas was badly in need of an assistant, and he petitioned the company accordingly. As was the modus operandum of the day, a young Englishman Mark Bracegirdle was recruited from overseas and after he arrived in Ceylon and spent two days at the Agency House, where the director of tea inducted him into what a planter's duties entailed. He was then sent to another estate for a stint of 'creeping'. When he had completed his creeping to the satisfaction of the superintendent of that estate and the company, he finally arrived to take up duties at Relugas estate in Madulkelle to the relief of the superintendent.

Remember his name well. It is a name that figured prominently not only in the tea industry of that period, but also in political, business and government circles. Mark Bracegirdle did not come from England, though he was English in origin. He came from Australia. His mother and he emigrated to Australia from England in 1925 and when he grew up he trained as a farmer. He also joined the Australian Young Communist League -- as history will show, his political leanings were to have a dramatic impact on his life in Ceylon. Settling in well, Bracegirdle went to work with vim, vigour and a hearty dose of enthusiasm. He got his hands dirty often as he did not believe in giving instructions and supervising. He was physically hyper-active and would prune,weed, move stones in new clearings, lop trees, and sometimes even pluck leaf, to the amusement of the women pluckers.  He was particularly sympathetic to complaints by the labourers, especially if such complaints were about their line rooms whenever repairs were needed. He was always accessible, and before long became the idol or pin-up boy of the entire labour force! He even visited the line rooms of the labour and shared their meals with them.

Mr.Thomas was aghast. This was something unheard of in the days when the English planters ruled their estates like some petty fiefdom and "never the twain would meet", with apologies to Mark Twain. Meanwhile, he kept an eagle eye on Bracegirdle's progress and concluded that although he was an exemplary worker and a cut above the rest as far as Assistant Superintendents were concerned, his attitude and behaviour to the established norms of the social structure were out of character. He had no idea of the mini revolution looming on the horizon which would rock this estate to its very roots!

One day on his field rounds, the Superintendent was amused to see Bracegirdle standing on a rock in a distant field. He appeared to be preaching a sermon, or giving a speech to a group of labourers. The men and women were gathered around, listening intently to every word. To him it looked like a politician making a speech to a group of voters. Intrigued, he approached the scene to ascertain what was happening, thinking that his able Assistant was instructing the labourers on certain tasks to be carried out. What he heard horrified him! He was shocked to hear Bracegirdle telling the labourers - in fluent Tamil - that they should submit a petition to the Company through the Superintendent drawing attention to their sub-standard living conditions.Their line rooms, he told them, were not fit for animals; and prisoners in jails had better living conditions. They were exploited to the maximum and deserved to live in dignity. The labourers had never heard anybody, let alone a white man who was their boss, speak to them about their sub standard living conditions and telling them they deserved better !

To them, this was a revelation and in their superstitious beliefs Bracegirdle appeared to be a sort of "Sami Dorai"...a 'Dorai' who was Godlike! It transpired that Bracegirdle's political leanings were of a shade dark red, and as already mentioned, in Australia he had been a member of the Communist Party. Marxist, Socialist, Leftist call it what you will...it was all in his genes. He was a hot-blooded activist whose bete noire was the working and living conditions of the poor and downtrodden on the plantations. This estate was to him a fertile breeding ground  which fanned his revolutionary fervour.

Agitated and alarmed, Mr.Thomas returned to his bungalow and compiled a detailed report of what he had seen and heard, for official purposes. He then summoned Bracegirdle to his office and behind closed doors let him have both volleys verbally, drawing reference to the conditions of his employment . Holding nothing back he said he took a very dim view of this type of behaviour, and warned him that any repetition would mean instant dismissal. But despite all the tough talk he had the sinking feeling that the problem he now encountered would snowball into unimaginable proportions.....And he was correct. His words had exactly the opposite effect on the young firebrand. Although he continued working, his political ardour was inflamed further and in order of priority, his devotion to duty was superseded by his political convictions. 

Subsequently, he was caught again "preaching" to the labour force, and this time merited instant dismissal. Mr.Thomas meanwhile forwarded a comprehensive report to the company citing the reasons for the dismissal of Bracegirdle. The director who read the report realized that he was holding a political hot potato in his hands. In the context of the times, any "revolutionary" talk against the establishment and ruling class specially by a 'White' worker was sacrilegious ! He took the matter up with the chairman of the company who in turn notified the authorities and they in their wisdom decided that Bracegirdle should be deported. By now the subject was the talking point in political and business circles, and the press had a field day.

Meanwhile, Bracegirdle had left the estate and joined the " Lanka Sama Samaja Party " (The Ceylon Socialist Party) in December 1936. Until the deportation order was finalised, the police could not touch him since he had committed no crime.The hierarchy of the Party welcomed him with open arms. This White man was a comrade after their own hearts. On one occasion he was introduced to a large crowd by a young Doctor N.M.Perera and Bracegirdle whipped the crowd to a frenzy, thrilling them with his oratory skills. The key figures in the LSSP at the time were Doctor Colvin R.De Silva, Leslie Goonewardena, Philip Gunawardena and if memory serves me correctly Edmund Samarakoddy, to mention a few. Later on in life some of these politicians became leading luminaries in Sri Lanka's politics and held ministerial positions in various governments. As time passed, Bracegirdle became a drawcard whenever the LSSP held a meeting - in the language of the present era, he enjoyed rock star status ! He was the main attraction while the other speakers were the 'supporting act'!!

His speeches were noted by the undercover police and the authorities, as the British planters, were furious that their prestige was being torn to shreds by a fellow white man. He took to the stage with all guns blazing and worked the large crowds to a fever pitch,lambasting the government, colonial rule, and highlighted numerous instances where capitalism was exploiting the working class. Although originally he intended training to be a tea planter which is why he went to Ceylon, colonialism was not his cup of tea !!! The press in the meantime had a field day and turned Bracegirdle into a "Robin Hood" type of hero ! But his life in the spotlight soon came to an end. 

The Governor Sir Richard Stubbs served a deportation order on him for the 22nd April 1937, and with this order came a deadline. He had to leave the country in 48 hours ! But the LSSP had other ideas. Like some scene from a spy thriller, they snatched Bracegirdle before the long arm of the law could reach him  and through a network of safe houses ensured that he was always one step ahead of the police. The best detectives and undercover operators were used to track him down, but he remained elusive and evasive !!  

However, all things in life are fleeting and his dream run came to an end. During a visit to the home of the secretary of the LSSP in Hulftsdorf which was closely watched by plain clothes police officers, he was arrested and ended up in court. Who said that miracles don't happen ? The three supreme court judges who heard the case made a ruling that he could not be deported for exercising his right to free speech ! Bracegirdle was a free man!!

This story did not end with our hero riding into the sunset on a winning streak. Instead he sailed away quietly to England one day in 1937, and was given a fond farewell by stalwarts of the LSSP Dr.N.M.Perera, Mrs.Selina Perera and Vernon Gunasekera, the secretary of the party. In England he led a busy life teaching, dabbled in archaeology, and was actively involved with the British Museum. Although he was no longer in Ceylon, his aura and mystique impacted the working class and his name was a shining light in socialist and Marxist circles. They honoured him as an activist who had the courage of his convictions, dared to challenge the colonial establishment   --  and almost won ! He died on the 22nd June 1999.

The planters, politicians, and all parties connected with the Bracegirdle story have long vanished into the mists of history. But in the copies of The Ceylon Daily News and other newspapers of the time which printed the story of the young rebel,his escapades which earned him heroic status among the working class still live on in their pages.

Editor's Note:
Creeper - a 'creeper' is a trainee; 'creeping' is training
Dorai - Tamil word for 'Sahib' / boss

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.

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If you've ever visited a tea garden or lived in one, or if you have a good friend who did, you would have heard some absolutely improbable stories! You will meet many storytellers here at Indian Chai Stories, and they are almost all from the world of tea gardens: planters, memsaabs, baby and baba log. Each of our contributors has a really good story to tell - don't lose any time before you start reading them!

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