Just GO For It!!

by V.R.Srikanth

Some of us have been privileged to do stints in tea and coffee estates. The story that I am about to relate, involves my station in a coffee estate in a predominantly coffee planting district although it could have happened in any plantation district.

My late father was always passionately devoted to all his cars. Which meant that the fastest way for me to earn some extra pocket money during my schooldays was to lavish his car with polish whenever the opportunity presented itself. There was no question of my ever learning to drive in his car. So I didn't know how to drive a car at all, except for the few times I had rashly sneaked his car out of the garage and driven it around our building compond at night on my own based only on my observation of his perfect driving style. My constant companion during a part of my College years was my Jawa motor cycle which I sadly had to part with once petrol prices went up drastically and I couldn't afford to run one on my allowance.

I had just taken over as Assistant Manager of OLS 'A' and 'B' Divisions of Coovercolly Estate, a coffee estate of around 1200 acres near Somwarpet, North Coorg, sometime in the 70s. Its highlight every year apart from the blossom onset, was the annual temple festival which took place sometime around Mahashivratri. This centred around a pooja in the estate temple followed by the reading of the Harikatha by priests from nearby Somwarpet and lunch.

As soon as the festivities concluded my boss, the late Shri D. H. Hegde, a great coffee planter and a thorough gentleman, who was also the Group Manager of all the Coffee Estates in our Company, asked me if I could drop the two priests who had performed the ceremony in his Ambassador car in Somwarpet town. This caught me smack right between the eyes and I was completely unprepared to even contemplate such a contingency. Having recovered my composure in an instant, I enthusiastically agreed to do. After all I certainly didn't want to lose face before the big boss so early in my tenure.

So I was quick to switch into the memory recall mode and having reversed the car from the parking spot, I quickly set off on the 2.5 kms of estate road we had to negotiate before we were to turn into the Mercara - Somwarpet Road, with the two priests whom I will refer to as Siji (for Senior Ji) and Juji (for Junior Ji) for the rest of the tale, seated in the back seat.

My start was a bit jerky and as we set off from the temple which was at the valley floor. Siji seemingly thrilled by his rendering of the Harikatha proceeded most exuberantly to acquaint Juji of that fact. I thought that they didn't notice in the meantime how perilously close I had come to depositing the Ambassador amongst the coffee bushes or for that matter contacting the hill side on bends which I had imagined would straighten sufficiently by themselves.

A typical road through a coffee estate, in this case Bedaguli in the B.R.Hills in Karnataka. We owned Bedaguli till we sold it in 2007. It is the meeting point of the Western and Eastern Ghats.

The monologue in the back seat having started initially as a raging torrent had managed to hit some impediments within the first kilometre of the journey and had definitely settled into a more sedate flow as I neared the 2.5 km mark before turning into the main road, with about 7.5 kms of black topped road to go ; as its protagonist had somehow by now realised that deviations from the straight en route hitherto, seemed unintended and definitely skiddy.

Like any instructor on the harikatha, Si ji was quick to realise that the time had come for him to take matters in hand and not leave it to the passive and philosophic resignation of his karmic fate. He broke his monologue intermittently and sought the refuge of his 'go to' mantras. The speed of his verbal delivery had now slowed down to an extent were he was decidedly less frenzied and casually more deliberate.

Meanwhile on taking the left turn to Somwarpet, I had discovered that there were still two forward gears that I had not used as yet and were crying for my attention. The next seven odd kilometre drive from the turn off point to Somwarpet was largely straight but for some curves that are a feature of any hill road but in the main, free of any major acclivity or declivity.

Having perilously steered my way through the twisting acclivity of the first two and a half  kms of the estate road, I took to the relative straight like a gazelle in full sprint.Something stirred within me and I soon engaged into third and shot off like a bat out of hell, missing a few pedestrians, cows and ongoing and oncoming vehicles by what seemed to me to be a fairly comfortable margin for the next couple of kilometres. I did admittedly toot the horn in the process a bit extravagantly.

With about five kms to go any conversation between the two tufted occupants of the back seat had ceased and Siji had settled into a low pitched yet moanful prayer that appeared to be desperate in its appeal. As I crossed Nagroor and headed into the home stretch in overdrive and sometimes alternating between the third and fourth gears I was exhileratingly hitting top speed. The tufts of the back seat occupants might have, I imagine by now, been standing vertically' but I did not dare to take  a peek in the rear view mirror.

With two and a half kms to go Juji had joined his Guru in prayer and both in perfect harmony did a high pitched Sanskrit rendition which will be forever remembered by me for its rapidity and escalated decibel levels while I by now grew in increasing confidence making the practice of rapid deceleration and acceleration my sole object and pursuit.

The final descent into Somwarpet town's old quarter is a series of very sharp and narrow bends and as I proceeded to negotiate this seemingly expertly, my passengers were now half screaming me into the home stretch with impassioned chants.

As I drew to a halt in front of their door, both got out of the car in an instant and disappeared indoors. They bolted their main door from the inside immediately, without either thanking me or blessing me for the great personal risk I had taken for their safe journey home.

The ride back, although pleasant and remarkably smooth, was somewhat mundane after the highs of the onward leg. By now I was handling the car with gear felicity to regard myself as a natural. I left the plantation industry later that year and joined Dunlop in the marketing department which resulted in my driving an Ambassador for over nearly 3,000 kms a month for the next few years as I covered my allotted sales and service territory.

My karmic wheel had turned.

Meet the writer: V.R.Srikanth:

I am a resident of the Nilgiris. I am a retired Corporate Management Professional having done two brief stint as a planter, nearly thirty years apart, mainly in Coffee. I live on my estate growing timber, organic herbs and vegetables.

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