The Polite Preacher...and Horsing Around

by Conrad Dennis

The year was 1981, and straight out of college I fell into the group of grads that didn’t sit for SAT and TOEFL or cram for the joint entrances to the hallowed institutions of IIT’s and the like. I hunted for a job, and as luck would have it my first interview was at the imposing Office of “Duncan House” at 31 Netaji Subhas Road, Kolkata. The job was for an Assistant Manager for their plantations which spread over Dooars, Assam and South India.

 After a series of interviews that tested my acumen rather than my intellect (fortunately for me), I did get the job and was overawed when at the closing it was whispered in almost reverential undertones (not to be shared with the less fortunate) that I would retire in the year 2014 with a princely pension of Rs 8000/-. With my air ticket to Bagdogra costing Rs 180/- I had visions of what all I could do with this monthly windfall.

...it rained so much that I don’t think I was ever really dry and just remained in different degrees of wet and damp during the extended monsoons 

I was soon winging my way to Sam Sing Tea Estate in North Bengal. The flight landed in Bagdogra and I looked around surprised that the entire staff at the aerodrome was, without exception, looking longingly at the line of passengers deplaning; it was later I was told that this was the only flight that day and they were eager to lock up and get back to hearth and home !!!!

 On the flight was another Duncan recruit - Sandip Nagalia, who became and remains a dear friend. He was a second generation planter and landed, armed with a lot of luggage, cutlery, crockery, linen (he told me)… an umbrella tucked under his arm, a book on Pests and Diseases in Tea and an extremely legal looking binder which later I realized was the Iconic Tea Encyclopedia. I had gone by the anachronistic list of Duncans - black lounge suit, six khaki shorts, six white shirts, six toweling socks, Bata Hunter boots a three cell torch and a transistor radio ( battery operated!!) the rest I don’t remember but it did fit into one small suitcase. If there was a parallel to being underdressed in terms of being prepared for what awaited me… boy did I fit the bill.

 We parted ways, he off to Dalgaon and I to Samsing, the second Cheerapunji, where it rained so much that I don’t think I was ever really dry and just remained in different degrees of wet and damp during the extended monsoons. I was to share the bungalow with Tarit Mahapatra, the Engineer Assistant who had joined a month earlier. He is a good engineer and a wonderful human being. 

Conrad at Samsing. All pix by author

Every bungalow had a Jeeves and they loved working for bachelors, who would depend on their financial and culinary skills to make it through the month. Our chap was a Nepali called Tikka, he remained in an alcoholic haze with brief moments of sobriety where he would complain vehemently about the pittance he received to keep us “fed up and fulfilled” through the month. 

One day we found Tarit’s only suit missing, and my Ambassador Black shoes had also disappeared. These were back in their respective places the next day. The mystery was solved a week later when we heard a few of the factory workers speaking about how Tikka Ram was immaculately dressed in formals at a wedding in the lines. Tikka got himself a second wife soon after.

Part of the regimen was the “Annual Inspection”, a three- or four-day period, prior to which there was maximum managerial trespass into all the nooks and crannies of the estate and factory and where the performance in terms of production and profitability of the Manager and his team was assessed by the VA. He would also interview each of the managerial staff both in the field and in the bungalow before the high tea on the final day. This was distressing for the wives - each one would be waiting anxiously in the sitting room or her husband to come out from the Den… fair speechless messages would fly betwixt the two thereafter.

 Mr. Dev Raj was my VA, a tall impressive gentlemen with a handlebar moustache and a booming voice to match. I had heard that he had just lost his mother in law, and to garner a few brownie points, I conveyed my condolences for the loss of the dear lady before my interview started. He growled, stroked his moustache and told me that his mother in law was in fine fettle; it was his father in law who had passed away! My interview, well if I was a steak I would certainly have been classified as “well done”. Some solace was he asked the next Assistant how many banks the estate had - apparently State Bank and Punjab National Bank was not the answer he was looking for.

The first year in those days was akin to boot camp. We worked hard and learnt from the worker by doing the multifarious tasks ourselves from plucking to spraying to pruning and it stood us in good stead. After a particularly bad day when we had got the short end of the stick from both the workers and the manager we rode down to Matelli Bazaar in the evening to do a “wee” bit of shopping. I say wee bit since the Chulsa Polo Club bill took the lion’s share of my salary.

 I was convinced it was my roll being called up yonder ...Pearly Gates or the hotter alternative 

I had joined tea with a Bullet motorcycle and on our way back in the pouring rain; both were cribbing about life in general when I missed a turn and slammed into a post at full speed. We were thrown off and I landed on my back stunned and with the breath knocked out of me. When I got my wits together I could hear my name being called from above… again and again and again. Being a devout Christian I was convinced it was my roll being called up yonder ...Pearly Gates or the hotter alternative, who was to tell?!! Fortunately it was only Tarit who had landed on the branch of an Indigofera tree above me who was checking if I was alive. All’s well that ends well, and men and machine mended fast.

Soon after, Tarit was transferred to Dumichpara Tea Estate and I was left rattling around huge Chung bungalow no 3 in Top line. A while later the Company decided to sell Samsing (this had nothing to do with my performance on the property) and with less than two years of seniority I was moved to the old VA’s bungalow in Yong Tong and designated the caretaker to ensure that there was no damage or removal of assets from the property till the consideration was paid in full.

 
All the old files and documents were removed from the office and stored in one of the bedrooms. It was on a bitterly cold wintry evening sitting by the fireplace while imbibing copious amounts of the cheap Bhutan “Apsoo” rum that I chanced upon a veritable treasure trove of old yellowed correspondence between the old planters and the Head Office. 

Another pic from Samsing

In the old(er) days there was a priest based in the Chalsa Manse who would traverse the Dooars from East to West offering spiritual solace( it was certainly not the spirit that the planter was looking for) and attempting to keep the lonely planter on the straight and narrow ( oh how terribly he failed on both counts). All his correspondence with the managers had to be copied to the Archbishop in Kolkata so that His Grace could keep a tab on his travails and tribulations.

This priest had, one evening, been invited to have a meal with Mr. Tucker, the Senior Manager of Samsing and his wife. While he was leaving Mrs Tucker presented him with a bottle of cherry brandy. The man of the cloth had to thank the generous couple and also copy the letter the Archbishop. I do not remember the exact words but there was a beautiful calligraphic note in the file. The essence of which was :

Dear John and Sarah, 

I thank you for the wonderful evening of food and fellowship. I also thank you for the fruit and the spirit in which it was given. 

cc His Grace The Archbishop Kolkata

In the good old days (whenever they were) all planters got a loan to buy a horse to carry out the daily Kamzari. They also got a pony allowance and a wife allowance. The pony allowance was more than the wife allowance and this was not something you could neigh about. The next anecdote is about one such gentleman.

This young planter had just been confirmed and wrote to Duncan Brothers requesting sanction of a loan to buy his steed - which was promptly sanctioned. It is here that there is the proverbial twist in the 'tail' develops. The Assistant then wrote to the company to kindly get his horse insured. They promptly wrote back saying they would be happy to do so but this would be in the name of the company since he had taken a loan and till the last installment was paid the horse belonged to them. He wrote back saying that they could recover the loan amount from him but he animal must be insured in his name. There were many letters back and forth and the horse had yet to be insured. The last letter in that file was from the Assistant to the company.

 Dear Sir, I refer to my letters dated… And your replies dated … I regret to advise YOUR horse is dead. I still wonder how this was resolved or if he ever survived his first contract??

They say the shortest distance between two people is a story and this is definitely my attempt at drawing us all together. During this difficult time when we are on uncharted waters and there is no clarity on the new normal it is important to communicate and stay strong. To quote a young friend of mine...” If we can’t reinvent the wheel, lets as least learn how to change a tyre”. Stay strong and stay safe.

Meet the writer:

Conrad Dennis is a professional with over 39 years of experience in the plantation sector. He has worked in Darjeeling, North Bengal and Assam and has headed a team setting up new tea estates and a factory in non-conventional areas of the Dooars. He oversaw the production and profitability of the Amalgamated Plantations Tea Estates in North Bengal and the Packaging. Division. He also is the Editor of the APPL Foundation’s E- Journal “Organic Growth” which seeks to connect organic Entrepreneurs and share the innovations and benefits of a shift to Organic Agriculture. 

Conrad is on the Institutional review Board of the Tata Cancer Hospital (Kolkata) and is part of the Ethics team that clears any Research and trials on treatment and drugs that seeks to control/cure the dreaded disease.

 After having retired as General Manager of Amalgamated Plantations he has moved to the social sector and is the COO of Mission Smile a Medical NGO that conducts free Compassionate Comprehensive Cleft and palate Surgeries to underprivileged children throughout the country and on Missions abroad.

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.
 Happy reading! Cheers to the spirit of Indian Tea!

Darjeeling Days

by Radha Madapa

Kanchenjunga as viewed from Barnesbeg. Picture courtesy Barnali Gupta

Early 2005 found us moving to Barnesbeg Tea Garden, Darjeeling. From the verdant, lush flats of Assam (Nonaipara Tea Garden, Darrang) to the lofty, fog enshrouded spectacular mountains of Tukvar Valley.
 
Vikas Gajmer who was moving out and also a good friend was there to welcome us along with Lakshmi Limbu (the first lady assistant in Darjeeling). They were good enough to have a nice hot lunch awaiting us after the long journey. We had travelled by an overnight train from Gauhati to Siliguri where our car, having been sent ahead, was waiting for us.

When Vikas realized we were incommunicado, he introduced us to the cell phone age! That very evening we set off to Darjeeling, to the mobile phone shop. Barnesbeg bungalow is situated just off the main road that connects to Sikkim and is as steep as can be. 

Now it was time for Vinod's initiation into driving in the mountains, with Vikas in the passenger seat. 

One needs to take off from the gateway at full speed, top gear. Vinod didn't get it quite right, the Gypsy ran out of momentum and we careened back to base! The first trip to town was rather nerve-racking, with narrow, winding, precipitous roads and vehicles hurtling down hill pushing us to the edge. Soon I learnt to blank out and just enjoy the beautiful passing scenes of tea gardens, cypress groves and clusters of little houses, beautiful potted begonias and geraniums spilling over the window ledges. Also the rosy cheeked children and pretty women.

Barnesbeg Bungalow. Picture courtesy Barnali Gupta 

The bungalow was short staffed so Laxmi, ever so helpful, brought in a maid to be interviewed. Having worked in the bungalow before she was the perfect candidate. Only she wasn't interested and the pretext was the language barrier insisting she couldn't speak Hindi, only Nepali. 

Anyway what stunned me was how she was turned out. Around 40 years old and quite pretty, she had on bright pink lipstick, big danglers in her ears and palazzos that had prints of palm trees going up the legs! I whispered to Laxmi from the corner of my mouth- but why is she dressed like that? Is that how she'll turn up if she works here...? She grinned and said- that's how it is- welcome to Darjeeling!! A decision was taken and I declared I would learn Nepali and Rita was to begin the next day. 

We got accustomed to Rita who proved priceless- pink lipstick, danglers, palm tree palazzos and all. She was very quick and efficient at her chores. Clearing the plates after breakfast and lunch was one of her jobs, then we learnt we needed to literally hang on to our plates because she came in quietly and hovered behind you and snatched yours away just when you were contemplating a second helping. Her being fluent enough in Hindi was never referred to.

Early days and our first outing with the garden driver Kapil to Darjeeling Chowk Bazaar. He was leading us down the bylanes when I noticed a marked limp. On further enquiry learnt he had only one good leg, lost the other just below the knee in the GNLF agitation in the mid 80's. In the blink of an eye he pulled up his trouser leg and we were quite taken aback. Raghav, Hari and me wide-eyed and open mouthed admired Kapil's Jaipur leg. Little wonder he was heavy footed on the accelerator and pelted on those cliff hanger, winding steep roads like Godzilla was behind us! 

Vinod recounted the most terrifying trip he had returning from tea tasting with Kapil at the wheel racing down the precipitous roads after dark, pouring rain and only one wiper working of the good old garden Gypsy. There were two other garden drivers who drove the pickups and often chipped in to take us to town for the weekly purchases. On our trip to town we were aghast to discover one guy was pretty deaf and the other had only one good eye!! Fortunately both were skilful drivers and our fears were needless. 

I've always loved throwing open all the windows in the morning to let in fresh air and sunshine One misty morning I did the same and it was ethereal, the swirling mist floated in. I was in bliss, hardly a moment later Rambrish the Jaduwala, stormed in and admonished me- "Nahi Nahi Memsahib! Math kholiye!" and shut all the windows with great haste. I was then told the mist brings in the damp. How foolish could I be.

Raghav and Notty after the Darjeeling Dog Show

Rambrish was a stalwart of Barnesbeg bungalow. He was past retirement but was retained, being invaluable with his services. The only Bihari family we found there amidst the Nepalis. He was like a big bear lumbering up and down the stairs with his cleaning equipment. Together with his wife he had a jalebi and samosa stall at the weekly Bazaar. So standing order- paid for in advance - was the supply of 2 kgs of jalebis every week, out of which at least three jalebis would be devoured by Notty, our drooly boxer, who escorted Rambrish and the packet of hot jalebis in from the back door. 

Rambrish knew every floor board in every room and every nook and corner of the bungalow. The master bathroom upstairs was oh so quaint. Bathtub that had claw feet and lovely old knobbly faucets. The windows were the best- huge double shuttered and glass paned - the view was breathtaking and so picturesque. Hills and dales of tea gardens and pluckers dotting the hillsides, baskets on their backs. The wooden floor boards in the bathroom were covered with linoleum. On no account could you spill water said Rambrish. Unknowingly I insisted he give the floor a thorough scrub with detergent and water. Very cleverly he chose the time of day when the children and I were at study in the office room directly below. We had to abandon books and scramble as water was cascading down on our heads!! He proved his point and I never doubted him ever again.

My favourite place at Planters Club was the library. You nudged open the door and the bell went 'di-ding' and this quaint gentleman, the librarian, shot up and welcomed you in

Sunday afternoon siestas have always been a much guarded tradition. In Barnesbeg however, the afternoon peace was shattered by Gurung Bustee's custom of Bingo sessions. Gurung bustee was a little settlement nestled on the fringes of Barnesbeg, located just below the bungalow. The MC announced the numbers on a loudspeaker that seemed like it was directed towards the bungalow. Nothing could drown out- "Assi... pachathar... thirsat" and so on and the cacophony of the bustee players. We tried plugging our ears and piling pillows on our heads too!! There on we made it a point to get away to Darjeeling for late lunch. The sights and sounds of town were so exciting for us folk who had emerged from the woods so to speak - Nonaipara being tucked away at the back of beyond.

My favourite place at Planters Club was the library. You nudged open the door and the bell went 'di-ding' and this quaint gentleman, the librarian, shot up and welcomed you in. The room was well stocked with books to suit all tastes and there was a brazier with hot coal keeping the room warm and cosy. In spite of it I would discover some books were pretty damp in the wet weather.

 
The view of Kanchenjunga from the upstairs windows of Barnesbeg bungalow was breathtaking. From October to March the visibility improves and each day we were treated to a different view. Some days cloudy, on others just a peek of the icy caps. On clear days we would be dazzled by the awesome majesty of the range of icy peaks. The changing hue as the sun rose from pink tinted to a fiery orange and then a brilliant white. The early morning bhajans reverberating in the hills added a sacred aura.

The most stunning view of the Kanchenjunga range was on our very last day at Barnesbeg. Crystal clear and magnificent, we could see an even wider expanse of the mountain range in all its glory as if to bid us farewell. These fond memories of Darjeeling will be cherished forever.

Meet the writer: 

Radha Madapa

Born into a plantation background, I was happy to marry a planter. My father and grandfather before him both worked for Consolidated Coffee Limited (now known as Tata Coffee).
Vinod was with Goodricke and most of his tenure was in Dooars, couple of years in Assam and a year in Darjeeling. 
Fourteen years later we moved South and Vinod joined the Woodbriar Group. Five years in the Annamalais and then two years in the Nilgiri- Wayanad region.

I count myself fortunate to have lived and experienced plantation life in so many diverse zones. We've met so many interesting people and have so many friends, lost touch with most but it's wonderful to reconnect. 

It's been five years since we've settled on our own property in Coorg and it's been the best phase of my life. Living near our parents and reconnecting with family and community has given us a sense of purpose and contentment. Also it's as close to paradise as I imagine. 

                         

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.

 

Happy reading! Cheers to the spirit of Indian Tea!

A Hundred Years of Planting in Munnar

by Manjit Singh 

When the founding fathers of the company first came here, the High Range was a vast tract of jungle land....

I joined Tata -Finlay in November 1978 and in the very next month the company was to commemorate a hundred years of planting in the High Range. It was decided that at the end of the celebrations a big bonfire would be lit on Anaimudi peak,which would be seen at night in two planting districts - the High Range and the Anamallais. 

The Anaimudi is the highest peak south of the Himalayas and is at a height of 9000 ft above sea level.

We were six Assistant Managers who were selected to make this climb to light the bonfire.We congregated at Nyamakad Manager's bungalow and after an encouraging word from the Manager, Mr Baig, we proceeded by jeep to Vagavurrai Estate, where Rangasamy, the venerated leader of the local Mudhavan tribe, joined us to guide us to the peak. 

Anaimudi Peak, image from Wikipedia. Pix c M D Madhusudan, 2013

Accompanied by six porters we gradually made our way towards Anaimudi peak, halting at frequent intervals to conserve our energy. Some of the porters were quite sceptical about whether we would make it in time to light the fire.Their doubts were allayed as we reached the peak by 1.00 pm. Anaimudi was covered with mist and there was a slight drizzle . We rested in a makeshift tent and it was only after the mist cleared that we were able to get a clear view. 

When the founding fathers of the company first came here, the High Range was a vast tract of jungle land, and what we viewed was a thriving plantation industry.What a brave and determined group of men they were who faced the hardships of the early days of plantation life,when horses were the chief mode of transport,when medical facilities were lacking and isolation made working conditions unenviable. But they strove hard and the High Range over the years witnessed the introduction of the railroad, ropeway, schools and hospitals. A hundred years of hard work had brought about this transition. It gave us a sense of pride to belong to the High Range and Munnar. 

Our emotions however did not overwhelm us and when we proposed a toast to the success of the High Range we did propose one to another hundred years of good boozing! At five we lit the bornfire and made our descent.We arrived at club exhausted, to join the party which was to continue till late into the night. 

Deep in our hearts there was a feeling of triumph that in our own little way, we had made history.

Meet the writer: 

Manjit Singh

I studied in the Lawrence School, Sanawar, and passed out in 1970. I then did my B.A (Hons) and M.A in History from Hindu College, Delhi University. I joined Tata Finlay in 1978 ( in 1983 it became Tata Tea ) and worked in the Plantation Division in South India- mainly in Munnar and a brief stint in the Anamallais in Tamil Nadu. 

I retired in 2014 as General Manager of the Tea Division of Tata Coffee a subsidiary of Tata Tea. I am a keen sportsman and represented the Club,Company and Upasi ( United Planters Association of South India) in cricket, squash and golf. After retirement we have settled in Chandigarh and my son and daughter work and live in Delhi. 

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.
 Happy reading! Cheers to the spirit of Indian Tea!

The Missing Sibling

 by Indi Khanna

While he was born in Simla, our son Madhav's formative years were spent on an estate in Upper Assam before he went off to a boarding school. The upshot was that Madhav naturally grew up with and adopted the 'garden Hindi' as his mother tongue. A language which I describe as the 'estate lingua franca'. 

A beautiful amalgamation of Hindi, Assamese, Bhojpuri, Bengali and a bit of 'huh?' to end up with the lilt and cadence of a 'musical composition' almost akin to the sweet sound of Swahili. 

There being no access to either a nursery or a kindergarten, as was the case on all tea estates in the North East and in South India, home schooling was the norm. Practically 24x7 my wife Kitty would, while not educating me on what the idiot Dr Spock had to say about bringing up kids, spend her time reading fairy tales and singing nursery rhymes to Madhav: nursery rhymes which were Madhav's only window to the world outside the estate. 

The first time we did our five day odyssey from Delhi to Upper Assam was when Madhav was all of two years old, which is when we purchased our first second hand Ambassador car in Delhi. Those were the days when roads, after one had emerged out of the 'big' city, used to be almost like a figment of one's imagination. 

In Eastern UP and extending into Bihar the 'highway' used to be liberally peppered with what were, for lack of a better word, called 'potholes', but were in fact craters from the surface of the moon magically transplanted on the highway. Potholes so generously expansive that when one drove one's car into one (there was no way one could circumnavigate the monstrosities) the roof of the car was well below the rim of the crater. But I digress, so let me get back to the main plot. 

While I was busy removing the wheel, we noticed Madhav going around the car in circles every now and then bending down to peer underneath the car

On the third day out of Delhi as we were getting close to Siliguri, the car had a flat. Just the fact that the tyres had brought us all this way having actually survived the UP/Bihar experience was in itself a miracle. Got the car to the side of the road, emptied out the boot and pulled out the jack. Once the car was jacked up, this being a part of his ongoing education, his mother informed Madhav that what 'Dada' had brought out from the boot and had put under the chassis was a 'jack'. 

While I was busy removing the wheel, we noticed Madhav going around the car in circles every now and then bending down to peer underneath the car. His search having yielded no results, he finally came up to his mother and in his most educated good garden lingo and with a very serious look on his face asked, 'Agar Jack waha hai, to Jill kaha hai?' (If Jack is here under the car, where is Jill?) 

Took us quite some time to stop rolling around in laughter and for the tears to dry up so that I could get back to changing the wheel and put Jill's brother back in the boot to drive on to Siliguri. The pleasures of growing up on an estate!

Meet the writer:

Indi Khanna with Xerox

With an industry experience and a tea knowledge base of four and a half decades and counting, I literally live and breathe tea. 

Starting my career in 1975 as an Assistant Superintendent with Malayalam Plantations Ltd, rolling up my sleeves by 'dirtying' my hands at the grassroots level and having literally 'grown' in the business, my experiences have matured me into a ‘one of a kind’ unique entity in the industry.

My journey which literally starts from the tea nursery and stretches all the way up to the consumer shelf, is in many ways unique. Regularly roaming the tea world, delving into the most remote areas wherever tea is grown or consumed, constantly interacting with Tea folk, I have always been learning and innovating. The invaluable experiences along this very interesting route have culminated into a unique new venture, a one-of-a-kind specialty tea manufacturing facility unit in the Nilgiris - www.teastudio.info.

My life has been and continues to be blessed.

Thankfully this very interesting Tea journey continues as an ongoing learning experience.

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.
 Happy reading! Cheers to the spirit of Indian Tea!

The Annamalai Story

by Jaswant      

 I am planning to write my story in four parts. This is the second instalment. *                       

From Wynaad Ripon Estate my father packed his bags and left with family for his hometown Calicut to stay for a few days before proceeding to the Anamallais on a transfer to Murgalli Estate. He bought his first car, a Renault 1945  model. The ghat road with its 40 hairpin bends was no doubt trying for any  driver for the first time. Aliyar dam those days was non- existent. The panoramic view and also watching the ropeway trolley laden with tea chests moving on cables across the hills was an enthralling sight.

Anamallai Ropeway company transported most of the teas from Roti Kadai to Pollachi by ropeway and from there trucks carried them to Cochin for auctions ( Forbes Ewart & Figgis, J.Thomas & Co and Carrit Morans were the only three auction houses then). 

 The Peria Dorai(Tamil for the big boss) and dorsani (the boss's wife) of Murgalli estate were Mr &Mrs Stewart . They stayed in a beautiful bungalow that had a swimming pool with immersion heaters and a sprawling garden adjoining the tennis court.

Mr.Sykes who was on lower Sheikalmudi Estate would say that whenever he called the Murgalli office Mr. Stewart would pick up the phone. Everyone thought that this man was the most loyal and dedicated manager of E&S. Sykes later discovered that it was not so. One day when Sykes went to Murgalli office to meet Stewart he was told that he was at the bungalow. At the bungalow Stewart was sun basking next to the swimming pool with a phone beside him which was an extension of the office phone. Stewart always believed that whether you worked or not the tea bush still grew.

The poor bulls had to lug the merchandise up the hills and traverse all the 40 hairpin bends before they reached Valparai on Saturday evening....

  There were very few grocery shops in Valparai that catered to the needs of the estate labour from all the 42 estates that belonged to seven corporates. The dorais and dorsanis frequented the sprawling Spencer & Co in the middle of Valparai town. The store provided everything except textile goods. The manager of the store Mr.Martin, all suited and booted, would welcome you with a smile. The store was well stocked and you could get anything special from Madras if advance orders were placed with Mr.Martin. 

There were not many trucks plying from the plains to the hills. Most of you will be surprised that all grocery items, vegetables, fruits etc for the Valparai Sunday market were transported by bullock carts from Pollachi after the weekly shanty on Thursdays . The poor bulls had to lug the merchandise up the hills and traverse all the 40 hairpin bends before they reached Valparai on Saturday evening. During the night while the cartman slept the bulls would walk without stopping and reach Valparai. There was an extra fitting in these carts and that was a boomerang shaped wooden piece tied by strings right behind the wheels. These wooden pieces dragged on the road and prevented the cart from rolling backwards in case the bulls were unable to haul the load.

There were quite a few frivolous expat asst superintendents who would stop their bikes on the ghat road at night and untie the bulls while the cart man slept. Poor cartman would realize the bulls are missing and would find himself parked on the ghat road the next morning. 

The Anamallai Club perched atop a hill with a beautiful driveway, was an aesthetically designed club house with a verandah, a lobby and bar (with a fire place), a beautiful sunken ballroom with a wooden floor, a ladies room, a small stage for music shows and plays, and a billiards room.

When you step on to the rear long verandah you have the card room on one end with a men’s restroom. At the other end of the verandah are the library, children’s room, the dining room and the kitchen, all overlooking the beautifully landscaped garden. The huge portrait of Queen Elizabeth was in the lobby over the fire place watching the revellers.

The members of the club were mostly expats. They were the Stewarts, Alistar Craig, Alistar Gordon, Fairburn, Forbes, Agnus Minotten, David Hughes, Rae Steele, David Billaby, John Walten, Hutton, Sykes, Duff, Jenkins, Henshaw, Cotrell, Sewell, Mayow, Palmer Jones, Tafe sSewart and many more. I won’t be doing justice if I don’t mention the name of Carver Marsh who opened the first plantation in the Anamallais in the year 1897.As a tribute to his enterprising and adventurous spirit a bronze statue (imported from Italy) has been erected on the ghat road near Mount Stuart Estate.

The most important person at the club was barman Murugiah who could deliver your brew without asking

My father was inducted as a member of the Anamallai Club and the Masonic lodge in 1951. He was the fourth Indian to become a member of this club. The first three members were Dr Dharmapalan, Mr P.I.Thomas and Dr Jaychandran, all from Brooke Bond &Co. The fifth Indian was Mr Maurice Madappa. After that many joined and finally when the Indians were the majority in the club committee, it was decided that Queen Elizabeth would be shifted from the lobby to the library. In her place came Dr Rajendra Prasad who thereafter watched the Indian Dorais and Dorsanis in action. Among the Indian managers Hussain was quite popular as he reared and trained a number of dogs in his bungalow. Wherever he went he had at least six dogs in his car.

The prominent Indians were Mr Raghava Menon, Naush Sethna, Dr K.T.Thomas, Bijoy Eapen,George Verghese, A.K.Thomas,Dr Disawallah, B.Kumaran, Dr John Korula, Eric Karumbayya, Dr Narayanan,  Hussain, B.M.Deviah, Madiah, N.M.Sreedharan, M.R.M.Punja, K.S.Shankar, Veeraraghavan, B.K.Muthanna, R.K.Seth, John Heatharall and many more.

 The club days were Tuesdays for children and weekends for the Peria dorais, chinna dorais and dorsanis. A piano and a nice music system was added to the décor and boy oh boy it was always party time. David and Michael chaperoned the entire crowd serving beverages and exotic short eats churned out by the oversized chef Anthony.

The most important person at the club was barman Murugiah who could deliver your brew without asking you...he knew by heart the poison you preferred. The usual dialogue when dorais met each other at the club bar was “Hello Bob, how many inches did you have last night? If Bob said 4 inches,Jim would say he had 5 inches. Well don’t get misled. They were only referring to the rain. 

LODGE ANAMALLAI 106

On weekends the club house was filled with smoke, clinking of glasses, laughter, loud music and all the feet tapping on the ballroom floor, while a small bunch was tucked away in the quiet card room and the billiards room. It was mandatory that everyone should be seen at the club on all club days. Just outside near the driveway was a single chamber for guests and a car park.  The land below the club had two tennis courts, a rugby field with a nine hole golf course and a cricket pitch, and on a small hillock was the Masonic Temple. Interclub meets for Anamallai , High Range Munnar and Coimbatore club were quite common. The inter company cricket, tennis and golf meets were twice a year. The companies were Kothari Estates, E&S, James Finlay, Anglo American Direct Tea Trading Co, Pierce Leslie & Co, BBTC Ltd, Jayshree Tea. Rugby matches between High Range Club and the Anammallai club were an annual event. Once in a way rugger players came from the Cochin naval base for a match.

The Christmas party was something that all children looked forward to.  The dorsanis decorated the club and there was this huge Christmas tree with all the gifts scattered around it. A club member would come in a tractor or bullock cart dressed as Santa. All the gifts for children were purchased from London. The toys were brought in by dorais who went to the UK on furlough.

The day after Christmas was Boxing Day when everyone met at the banks of the Sholayar river for the inter company boat race, cocktails and lunch.The club had even fabricated and set up a special diving board at the picnic site for the swimmers.. The boat race was crazy. The competitors sank each other’s boats and finally the one that survived was the winner. While the boat race was on, the bar was open and cooks from different bungalows would lay out the tables with delectable dishes for a crowd of over 120 people. Boxing Day in the Anamallais was forgotten after the British left.

Akkamallai grass hills, almost 6000 ft above sea level and just about 20 kms from Valparai, was a haunt for the keen anglers of the Anamallais. The Anamallai Planters' Association had built a fully equipped furnished two bedroom cottage with a trench around it to keep away elephants, bisons and the Nilgiri Thar(Ibex). A couple stayed there to take care of guests.

Grass grew to a height of over 6 feet and there were small patches of sholas with plenty of wild life. Between the grass and the sholas there were perennial and pristine brooks with rainbow trout. Just across the grass hills barely 16 kms away was Munnar. Many planters and their wives have trekked across this wilderness with the help of the local tribes - the Mudhukans. Before setting foot on the grass everyone had to rub a mixture of tobacco powder and oil on their legs to keep away the tiger leeches that could suck a lot of blood. It’s sad that grass hills have been now been declared a heritage site and the forest department prohibits anyone entering this area.

My younger sister’s nanny always advised my mother not to go on the first day as she felt that all the actors wouldn’t be at their best...

English movies were screened every Friday exclusively for planters at the theatre in Mudis. Besides this one Mr Sarngapani had a theatre in Roti Kadai which screened only Tamil movies. He was friendly with all planters and insisted that they see the movie on the first day itself. My younger sister’s nanny always advised my mother not to go on the first day as she felt that all the actors wouldn’t be at their best as they would be tired travelling all the way from Madras.

The bungalow we lived in at the Iyerpadi Estate had a shola behind us with lot of wild life. One day my younger sister was missing. Everyone feared that some wild animal would have carried her away. The entire labour force was deployed to find her. Finally after a thorough search she was found hiding in a rolled carpet inside the dressing room in the bungalow.

There were parties galore; Arabian nights, Red Indian nights, Wild West, New Year's Eve parties and so on. The Flower Show was another important event in the Anamallais. Judges came from Ooty to award prizes for the best bungalow garden and also for the flower exhibition at the club. A do-gooders association was formed by the planters wives to help the poor and needy. The dress code was quite stringent and therefore all the dorais and dosanis were always dressed to kill for all occasions.

The ladies, especially the Indians, would make a bee line to the popular cloth stores, Swaraj,Taj Mahal and Fashions in Coimbatore to pick up all the exotic silk sarees for different parties and events.. Planters, when they visited Coimbatore, stayed at the English Club or at popular hotels like The Majestic and Woodlands .The popular movie theatres in Coimbatore were Rainbow and Sreenivas which screened only English movies. Lucky, Davey, Bombay Ananda Bhavan and the Chinese were the restaurants in Coimbatore frequented by the planters from Valparai.  

 Each one had different models of cars and all the estate mechanics knew how to service them. One of the managers who owned a convertible Citreon was so fast on these winding roads that his car was called the flying bed pan. 

My father worked in Paralai, Murgalli, Iyerpadi and Paralai estates as an assistat superintendent under the guidance of MrStewart, Mr Sewell and Mr Cotrell . In 1958, he was promoted as the superintendent of Iyerpadi estate and thereafter was transferred to Paralai estate. Tea trade was flourishing and in 1961 each manager of E&S was provided with a Willy’s station wagon costing Rs 22000/- each. In 1962, my father was sent to UK and the entire continent on a three month furlough. Mr Sreedharan and his wife from BBTC Ltd were also in the UK during this time and they had a good time together.  

One of the parties at the Paralai bungalow was a terrible experience for my mum and dad... little did they know that a manager of Pierce Leslie & Co and another from James Finlay & Co were on the warpath.

One of the parties at the Paralai bungalow was a terrible experience for my mum and dad. Dad had invited around 20 people from different companies and little did he know that a manager of Pierce Leslie & Co and another from James Finlay & Co were on the war path.  When the party was about to be over both of them went to the rest room and there was a fist fight which no one noticed until the James Finlay guy came out with blood oozing from his mouth. It was an embarrassing moment for all. Next morning the bungalow servant retrieved a tooth from the guest bathroom. Thereafter my parents always checked with everyone before inviting guests for parties.

Another gruesome incident was when one of the British Asst Manager of Brooke Bond was totally inebriated at the club and refused to get dropped home in his friend’s car. When his friends insisted, he threw his jacket in their car and said he preferred to go on his bike. He got on to his bike and was travelling home followed by his friends in the car. He started racing the bike and somewhere near Sirikundra estate lost control and landed on the pruned tea bushes and was spiked to death. This was shocking news to all the planters in Valparai.

By 1958, ABT built a bus stand in Valparai and bus services were started. The founder of ABT Mr.Mahalingam was there in Valparai to receive the bus on its maiden trip. The first bus came up with sand bags instead of passengers. The best driver, one Khan from the ABT fleet, drove up the ghat road to reach Valparai safely. Anamallai Ropeway Company's cable trolleys from Roti Kadai to Pollachi were discontinued and trucks like Fargo and Dodge were introduced transport tea to Cochin.

In 1964 Dad was promoted as Group manager of North Wynaad estates belonging to E&S.

My parents were indeed very sad to leave this lovely planting community where they had the best of times these many years.

With a heavy heart we bid goodbye to all the good friends and the good times to move on to Wynaad. 

I must add that in the 50s and 60s the planters were the happiest lot. They were stress free with no work pressure, labour issues or financial constraints. All the tea companies were prosperous as the tea trade was flourishing and the dorais and dorsanis had a lot of time to chill out.

*Here is the link to Jaswant's first story: The stories as told by my father (1944 to 1950)

Editor's note: 'Shola' refers to regional forests. Readers may remember references to Shola in stories by Mirza Yawar Baig, Rajesh Thomas, V.R.Srikanth and Minoo Avari. 

Read more on Wikipedia  -  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shola

Meet the writer :

My name is Jaswant. I live in Coimbatore. My father Harikrishnan woked as senior planter in E&S Joint Cooperative Society Plantations in Wynaad and the Anamallais. I graduated from Madras Christian college in 1972, worked in J Thomas and Company for one year, Excel industries Ltd,Mumbai, an agro chemical company for three years and from 1976 to 2007 I was running a company called Growel, supplying agro chemicals to most of the tea planting companies in South India. Since 2006 I am running a homestay in Coimbatore catering to the needs of the international,corporate and plantation guests who visit Coimbatore often.

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, maybe long, 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/

 

 

That "Planter's Spirit"!

by Danny Pariat 

On seeing the photo of the remains of the dilapidated Goriajan Club building, a retired planter who was a young assistant in the Dhunseri area in the late 60s/early 70s had the following to say about his club during those days, the Dhunseri Polo Club. 

Such a pity that just the skeleton of a shell remains. If only the walls could speak and convey the many flings exuberant planters have had within these precincts it would fill volumes of interesting tales. 

At least Dhunseri Club has survived but it came dangerously close to being shut down in 1972. 

I was the Chotta Saheb in Behora. Two senior planters resigned their membership over a very petty issue of shifting the club days, and the company contributions from WM as well as Tata Tea stopped coming. My pleas for help from WM fell on deaf ears. The then Director cleverly passed on the buck to the Visiting Agent based in Upper Assam, who - to my utter disappointment - had said, "Gone are the days of satellite clubs that were formed during the time of poor transport facilities. You guys can easily take a drive to Goriajan or Jorhat Club twice a week." 

Five of us Assistants met and resolved to keep the club going despite the company’s support being withdrawn. Each one of us pooled in funds. A live band from Jorhat ( Dennis Banks and his boys had formed the 'Gnats' ) agreed to perform for a fee in kind by way of  'unlimited rum and dinner'. 

The Midsummer dance 'do' which was then held was a thundering success when planters from Misa, Jorhat and even Seleng came over for a fun filled night. The news had reached the Director at Head Office and he was gracious enough to send in the companies’ contributions with arrears. 

I had my last word with the V.A. when I said, "Sir it is very simple to close down an existing facility but it takes a whole lot of 'spirit' to keep it going!!!" 

The nice coat of arms for Dhunseri Club was designed by the artistic Dr Banerjee whose talent was in art and wild life and practicing medicine, apparently, was his hobby.

 I gather Dhunseri Club is still a thriving club nowadays.

 - Danny Pariat

Editor's note: Do you have a photograph of the Dhunseri Club? Would you like to share it with other readers? Please email it to me at indianchaistories@gmail.com.

Thank you!

Meet the writer:

DANNY PARIAT

Born and brought up in Shillong, I graduated in Bsc in 1971 and soon after, i.e. Feb 1972, had joined at Koomsong T.E. in Doom Dooma.  I married my girl from Shillong and we have two lovely daughters - Deanna is a doctor in the U.K. and Janice, author/writer, art critic, poet is teaching at a university near Delhi.
My work places varied between the south and north bank - started at Koomsong, then four years later went across to Pertabghur near Bishnauth Charali, back to Moabund near Jorhat from where my actings started then back for my first billet at Harchurah. Thereafter worked at Seajuli,Rupajuli, Margherita and Pertabghur. I finally called it a day in December 2004 and made it back home just before Christmas.


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

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. The blog is updated every two to three days. 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