by Rajan Mehra
Over the years, whenever I bump into my batchmates from Birla Institute of Technology (BIT) Mesra, Ranchi – they are all surprised and all of them repeat almost the same phrase – 'Rajan, after passing out from BIT as a first division Mechanical Engineer, how come you joined tea and eventually became a tea taster also?'
It is a long and yet interesting story. After finishing Engineering College as a Mechanical Engineer, I applied to all (engineering) companies and also to all the British sounding companies for a job. I got a letter from Macneill & Barry Calcutta. When I visited them for an interview - which in itself was rather unexpected- I had no clue about this company. There at Calcutta I came to know that they were interviewing youngsters for a job in the tea gardens of Assam. I was not interested, but talking to others there who had come for the interview, I learned that a tea job is very good – good handsome pay, lots of games and with several perks. The interview in itself with several Senior Executives was rather general & friendly. I was reluctant as in the interview I was asked, 'What do you know about tea?' and I replied, 'Nothing!...but I do drink it every day!'
Two days later I dropped into the office wearing a borrowed 'tie'. I was told that I had to meet the Directors of the Company -my interview with them was very light-hearted, which made me feel at home - and my confidence grew. I was asked if I drink & smoke if so, how much. How many girl friends I had – what games I played – was I fond of gambling? If the company gave me money to gamble and I win a lot of money, what will I do? My reply was I will have a wonderful time – then I was asked what do you mean by a wonderful time. All said and done, I was selected to join a tea estate named Salonah in Assam.
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| Tasting teas with Ian Brabbin at Taylors of Harrogate - Yorkshire. 2006 |
November 15th, 1967- A 22 year old 'fresh' Mechanical Engineering graduate, wearing a brand new 'blue pin stripe' suit, landed at Gauhati Airport. He was carrying a brand new Sony transistor in his hand. The transistor was imported and it was the latest model - and it was a gift from his father. The blue suit too was a special gift from his father for his birthday. The best tailor in Kanpur had tailored it and the 'Master' had made the coat with two 'side slits' at the back instead of the usual single slit in the middle. The suit fitted well and the wearer thought he looked very smart.
The last few days had been very hectic but he was feeling fresh and excited. There were no signs of fatigue; on the contrary, he was full of energy. There was this great excitement of starting a career. There was the excitement of getting a 'lucrative job' with a British Company, within just a couple of months of his passing out from the Engineering College. Engineering Graduates in the sixties usually got a job at a starting salary of Rs. 400/- per month but here this tea company, Macneill & Barry, was going to pay him Rs. 1050/- per month (of this Rs.50/- was the allowance for being a qualified Engineer), and that too with the designation of Assistant Manager. On top of this, he was also going a have free furnished bungalow all to himself with four free servants, not to mention the free electricity/ water.
On the previous day, the company's Personnel officer at Calcutta Head office had briefed him that he would be posted at Salonah Tea Estate near Misa Army Camp. At Gauhati Airport, 'someone' from Salonah would receive him. He was also told that Salonah's Manager was Mr. Dao Singh. During the flight, he was relaxed. Like many other young men of his generation, he was fascinated by the colonial life style of the British, but the fear of the unknown made him a little unsure. Now and then a few doubts kept cropping up; what would life in tea be like? Had he taken the right decision? He was told that the tea gardens were miles out from nowhere. No one in the family had ever been to Assam. Some friends had warned him about the 'Bengal Ka Jadoo'. A few wiser friends had cautioned him 'Wahan ladkian Jadoo kar deti hein' (The girls there – they cast spells). Be careful.
Looking out from the plane, he reminisced over the happenings of the last two days. Yes, the Calcutta Head Office was very pucca British. All the Executives at the Head Office were immaculately dressed. They were all wearing smart expensive suits & ties and almost all were wearing cuff links. 'Cuff links, yes, cuff links! I must buy some before I leave for Assam', he had decided.
The plane landed safely at Gauhati. He looked around, but there was no inquisitive look on the few faces that appeared to be waiting to receive the passengers. Slowly, all the co-passengers collected their baggage and moved out. Rajan became a little impatient and also started feeling a little uncomfortable in his new suit. It was surprising that no one around was wearing a suit. The twenty minutes wait suddenly became a little too much. Gathering courage he walked up to the Indian Airlines' enquiry counter asking if anyone was enquiring about Mister Mehra, Asst. Manager from Macneill & Barry Co.
'No', was the answer, but the man at the counter suggested that all cars and taxis were parked outside right in front of the Airport. 'Maybe the person is waiting in the car', he hoped..
There were many taxis and some offered to take him to his destination. He then realized that there was a serious language problem; most of the taxi drivers appeared not to understand Hindi. The taxi wallahs wanted to know where was Salonah? Rajan had no clue at all. All he knew was that Salonah was near Misa Army camp. No one there seemed to know where Misa was.
Luck changed; a Sardarji taxi-wallah arrived - imagine a Sardarji taxi-wallah in Assam! It was indeed a relief and Sardarji in fluent Punjabi volunteered to help. But his help created more confusion. He advised, 'You have landed at the wrong place, you should have gone to Tezpur. From Tezpur there is a ferry for Misa'. That created panic; the tie and the new blue pin stripe suit suddenly became very very uncomfortable, and even the Sony transistor seemed a heavy dull weight. 'Now what, - yes, of course, why not phone Calcutta office - but what is the ' telephone number?'
Panic soared but Rajan told himself, 'No, no, you must not panic; the worst could be to fly back to Calcutta.' Then in a flash the thought came; of course, yes, the telephone number was there. It was printed on top of the Appointment letter, which was in the big black trunk.
Rajan, thought, 'Let me try the IA enquiry counter once again.'
The IA man said, 'Aarey, -there you are- someone came just now enquiring about you'. Feeling much relieved, he looked around, but there was no one nearby dressed in a suit or even in a tie. From a distance, a person wearing a white t-shirt and a white pair of shorts with white canvas shoes - that too without socks - leisurely walked up and enquired, 'Are you Mehra'?.
He introduced himself, and they shook hands and exchanged the usual introductory pleasant words. Rajan was very agitated and complained - rather in a rude manner - that he had been waiting for over half an hour or so. So arrogant was Rajan's attitude that he did not even bother to gather the gentleman's name. He thought to himself, it was indeed a sad story that this pucca British Company had sent a man so ill dressed to receive him- no socks also!
The gentleman said in a gruff manner, 'Sorry I got delayed. I was playing a tennis match, I did not even change', and in the same breath he added, 'Go get your stuff, my car is parked there, we better move.'
There was some authority in that tone and Rajan was taken aback. Better sense prevailed; after all he KNEW ALL, -he had learned from his Engineering course how to tackle these difficult subordinates. Rajan had studied Industrial Management, which said, 'Be patient' with your people - Use Effective Team Management: it was in Chapter 5, he recalled.
The bulky luggage was somehow stuffed in the dicky of the good old faithful Ambassador car -that too a white one. Rajan got in the front seat, as the gentleman, who had come to receive him was driving. 'What no driver also? Poor show – may be the company is not as good as I thought', mused Rajan.
As the car came out on the main road, Rajan was naturally relieved that at least he did not have to go back to Calcutta or even phone up the Head Office. All's well that ends well. He took out his packet of '555' cigarettes purchased at Calcutta Airport and lit the cigarette in grand style that too with the new fancy lighter recently purchased.
Even before the first good soothing puff was taken in, the gentleman driving the car said, 'Mehra, let me put you in the picture. Mr. Dowsing, the Manager of Salonah, has gone to UK on leave and I am the Acting Manager. Perhaps you did not get my name. I am Barua, Tapan Barua.'
Rajan gulped. The newly lit un-smoked cigarette was promptly thrown out and the words came out, 'Yes--- Sss—ir'.
Mr. Barua added, 'You may smoke if you wish.'
Very sheepishly Rajan, replied, 'No, Sir, I am sorry, I rarely smoke'. A lie- ---a blatant lie!.
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Well readers, that was how I arrived in Assam and this was the beginning of my journey into tea. To Mr. Barua, I did not know what to say. All kinds of thoughts came to my mind. Acting Manager- dressed like this???.
And what happened to the Manager Mr. Dao Singh?
After answering a few queries regarding my hometown, family etc. I gathered some courage and enquired, very politely, 'Sir, I was told that Salonah's Manager is Mr. Dao Singh –a Sardarji'
Mr. Barua lit his non-filter cigarette and smiled.
'You have got it wrong - the name is Dowsing, Bill Dowsing and he is from the U.K.'
Tapan Barua, whom I got to know and admire in the days to follow, took me to his parents' house at Gauhati and there I met his parents and also a very beautiful and charming lady, Mrs. Barua- Mamoni Barua. Compared to Tapan's gruff manner Mrs. Barua's smile was so welcoming that I felt as if I had known her for years. Tapan then told me that the drive to Salonah would take around four hours but before that we were going to watch a cricket match.
Off we went to the stadium at Gauhati. There was a cricket match going on. Several people came and shook Tapan's hand. He was treated like a VIP and we sat down at a reserved special place in the 'pavilion'. In just five minutes, we saw a batsman bowled out. Suddenly, five or six persons came and started forcefully and literally picking up Tapan Barua from his place. There was some commotion. I figured that these were Tapan's friends insisting that he play cricket and Tapan was resisting.
Tapan eventually went away with them. I wondered, 'How could Tapan play! What is this cricket! I have played a lot of cricket. How can a spectator be forced to play? Rajan - c'mon, you are in the wrong place. Go back home'.
There was a shout and a roar - the next wicket fell - an 'lbw' decision disapproved by many spectators. The next thing I saw with utter disbelief -- Tapan Barua, my Acting Manager, all dressed up in full cricketing attire, including cricket shoes, coming out of the pavilion and walking up to bat.
The applause was thunderous. Obviously, Tapan was the local hero. And could Tapan bat! He hit the ball all over. I too joined in the clapping. There were several hits to the boundary from Tapan's bat. In no time Tapan was raising his bat for his fifty – half century. I was equally excited. Cricket was the game I loved and still love. Here was this 'Acting Manager' of mine, who first borrows clothes, even boots, and goes out and hits a whirlwind fifty. A hero was created overnight. Yes, I thought I could work with a cricketer! Maybe, tea will be good.
Tapan seemed to be in a great hurry and went out to smash every ball. He soon got out. Within minutes, he came wearing his own clothes and said, 'Let's go to Salonah'.
As we came out of Gauhati, the landscape reminded me of my Engineerg College in Ranchi. Four hours is a long time. We chatted for some time but then we ran out of conversation. During the silent journey, strange thoughts kept coming up: 'Where am I heading - what I am in for - why did I join tea?' After all, in my interview, I had told everyone that I knew nothing about tea except that I drink it. The selection Board had then asked, 'But why did you apply for the Job?'
Without any hesitation I told them the truth that after completing my Engineering exams I had applied to about twenty-five companies. I had selected all companies with a British name. I had this fixation about working in a 'British Company'. I had no clue whatsoever that Macneill & Barry had asked me to come for an interview for a Tea job. After this statement to the Board, I had taken the interview very lightly, knowing that I won't be selected. What transpired is another story.
The journey was uneventful. The sun sets early in Assam and that too in November. It was totally dark by now and there were no lights to be seen. My thoughts were broken when Tapan announced, “Well now we are turning into Salonah-another six miles to go". By this time all my exhilaration and thrill had dwindled.
Tapan announced that first we would meet the Superintending Manager, and then go to Tapan's bungalow at Langteng Division, where I would stay the night. We drove through the gates of the SM's Bungalow. The bungalow was huge and was all lit up. Tapan, casually pointed out at the tennis court and the huge swimming pool in the bungalow compound.
The Suptd. Manager, Edgar Deighton, was a big, tall man. He was more than double my size and at least over 8 inches taller than me- or so it appeared at that time. Introductions were made. I found his English accent a little difficult to understand. He did remark, 'So you are the laddie, the Mechanical Engineer, who does not know anything about tea- by the way how long are you planning to stay here?'
Then we were off to Langteng, on a very lonely, dark, bumpy road. Finally, we arrived at Langteng Bungalow. The Bungalow looked like a long Railway platform. From the verandah, I saw that outside there were no signs of any life or lights – there were lot of trees and I could faintly make out that there were hills, not too far away. I thought, 'Have I finally arrived at the End of the world?'
Before going to bed, Tapan told me we would go the office in the morning at 6 AM.
'But why 6 AM?' I enquired. I was told that in the tea gardens office starts at 6 AM and should I be posted to the factory, and the factory always starts at midnight.
Next morning, I got up very early and after a very cold water tub bath - the first ever tub bath - quickly got into my new 'Kamjari dress'. At 5-50 A.M. sharp I went to the drawing room and wished Mr. Tapan Barua in the best 'schoolboy' manner with hands clasped behind the back, 'Good morning Sir.'
We came out, and I got my first view of a tea garden.
Beyond the bungalow hedge there were lush green tea bushes; yes a carpet of green as far as the eyes could see, with a lot of tall trees in between. The air was clean, cool and freshest of the fresh. I could see the hills- they seemed very near and very green - the view was breathtakingly beautiful.
We walked out of the bungalow on the grassy road to the office- Tapan pointed out at those tall green trees and said, 'These are shade trees, known as “Albizzia Chinensis”'. Then from the nearby tea bush Mr. Tapan Barua removed some leaves and handed them over to me - and I got to hold - my first 'two leaf and a bud.' I knew then 'the tea journey' had begun.
This was a journey, which on its way enriched my life through associations with some wonderful people, with immense learning, satisfying achievements and most of all a happy qualitative life. It was 51 years ago but it seems 'just the other day' when I had landed at Gauhati.
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| The Nudwa Bungalow we stayed in for 28 years |
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| A recent picture of Rajan with his Memsaab, Shalini |
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!
