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. 

                         

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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.

 

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