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.

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