Drinks and Dinner

by Suresh Bakshi 

Hello dear readers! Here's another blast from the past - Suresh Bakshi tells us some entertaining stories from the cha bagan days of the 1950s. Thank you for the much needed laughs, Suresh. Cheers!!

DIETARY DISTASTE

It was not easy to recruit an accountant to inspect and report on the tea estates in the early fifties. The estates were far flung, the roads kutcha, the flights by Dakotas - you sat in aluminium bucket seats with goats and chickens as co-passengers!!

Inhospitable areas indeed were the tea estates then with malaria and other tropical diseases being rampant. Not forgetting the herd of elephants that came to the bungalow to eat bananas - or the cobras after the eggs in the kitchen. It was satisfying to be able to recruit a candidate ultimately but he had one condition. His dietary habits were inflexible. He was a vegetarian. The Chief Medical Officer was requested to advise all the managers of the menus to be served to this gentleman and this was circulated to all tea estate managers under my signature.

Oh dear, what a bother this caused, and the spate of letters ! 

One of the letters complained, "If he arrives at the garden between April and December, where does he expect us to get the varied vegetables and fruits except from Calcutta or Shillong from cold storage. Could I be advised where the following can be procured. Marmite, apples, prunes, spaghetti, plums and at what price. Where on a tea garden will he get anyone to make singharas, nimki, jeera pani, luchi, bael sherbat. Please forward the recipe on how to make a souffle and ice cream without eggs. We are not aware of one."

And another: "It would appear that he either brings his own cook and supplies while on tour or not be a touring accountant. Had he been fond of rice, it would have made things easier. First class atta is difficult to obtain in Assam as no wheat is grown and all the varied methods of preparing chappatis etc. are foreign to Assam and Cachar Cooks."

We were obliged to dispense with his services. 

UNDER THE MATTI

To enter the Club you have to pass the dance hall on the left and to go to the library you pass through the bar on the right. I see Jim Angus in passing presumably with his pink gin - I wave and carry onto the library. To each his own. Jim Angus likes pink gins and I am not averse to a healthy dose of good reading. Not that I mind a pink gin myself, but age regresses desires.

Having made my selection of books enough to see me through for three days, I come to the bar and sit on the stool next to Jim. 

He doesn't look up, and I say, "Well Jim, how are things?" 

He is as depressed today as always and from the furrows on his forehead signs of worry and anxiety permeate.

"Oh well", he replies and does not encourage any further talk. 

The world is too heavy for him. The Abdar gives me my usual - a cold beer - and I sit along side Jim and nurse my drink. The atmosphere is quiet but will build up as it usually does.

Tom and Helen Barr come in followed by Kenneth Anderson and his wife Kate. What a breath of fresh air is Kate - but that is another matter - and then comes the jovial Jock Mitchell bursting with enthusiastic humour and good will. He welcomes me with a huge thump on my shoulders; he does not consider me old.

"Abdar"! he calls, "drinks for everybody - my round" he says. The atmosphere invariably livens up when Jock Mitchell is around and in addressing me he is addressing all across the bar. "Have you heard", he says, not waiting for an answer - "John Simpson is under the matti. Got a letter from his son in the evening Dak. Under the matti now. Abdar!"

"Round phir lagao - Good man was John - we will miss him but under the matti now".

I had always known John Simpson and Jock Mitchell to be the best of friends and as I sip my beer a hope comes to me. When my turn comes to be under the matti, there will be a Jock Mitchell to order a round or two for everybody and say - "Have you heard he is under the matti - good man, we will miss him. Abdar! "Round phir lagao". 

There are enough men around like Jim Angus anyway.  

THE MYSTERY OF THE MISSING SPIRITS 

Tom Monroe is a bachelor, huge, heavy and ruddy of complexion. When Tom gets going, the wives scurry away their respective husbands though most of them would rather stay - but domestic bliss prohibits, Tom is and never was an alcoholic but his capacity to drink is unimaginable. 

I have yet to see anybody keep pace with him and then those who have tried have had some kindred spirit to thank them for their safe arrival home. But Tom is the most hospitable and generous host. A well meaning man. God knows how few of them are. 

Tom and I get along well and we dine occasionally and easily. He does not lock his liquor and I have always maintained that by doing this you are looking for trouble. A big temptation to the servants, and changing servants is a nuisance. But Tom wouldn't hurt a fly, leave alone dismiss a servant; and his servants, the burra bearer, the chotta bearer, the paniwalla, the cook, the sweepers, malis and chowkidars have been with him ever since he took over as Manager of Koloong Tea Estate some seven years back. 

But Tom has been having trouble. The level of the rum and the sherry drops even more perceptively than he partakes and one evening while I am sipping my beer and he his whiskey soda he calls for the burra bearer and the chotta bearer and tells them angrily - 

"Yeh bottle hamara jaldi khatum hota hai. Itna jaldi hone ko kaam nahi hai. Tum hamara bottle se khaya. Hur tum dono ko dismiss karega". 

"Nahi hazoor", - both bearers plead. "Hum haat nahi lageya. Kabhi nahi hazoor".

I am a silent spectator. He dismisses them with a warning that should this happen again they will need to seek jobs elsewhere. I know and so do his servants - Tom has often threatened but will never dismiss anybody. When next we meet Tom is his usual cheerful self. He has sorted out the bearer; the half empty liquor bottles he has topped up.

 "With my own piss - teach them a lesson!!", he says with a smile which has no malice. It is known that a politician in the country has his own - undiluted though. 

We meet again and I ask "Well Tom, what is the level now? And has the problem been sorted out, and have you dismissed the bearers" ? 

"No! the bearers have not been dismissed but the problem has been sorted out", came the reply.

 The level of the rum and the sherry bottles had of course been perceptively lower and the bearers were again given a severe dressing down.

 "Cook liya hai saab", the bearers pleaded.

On enquiry, the cook admitted that he had used a liberal quantity of the liquor for the puddings; he had been doing this for years.

 "Saab, acha banta hai!" Tom of course, had a very sweet tooth!

  

 Meet the writer: 

 

Suresh Bakshi

Born on 15th June, 1943. Studied in Joseph's Academy, Dehradun and St. Stephens College, Delhi. Worked for 28 years in MacNeill and Barry, MacNeill and Magor and The Assam Company (I) Ltd. Began his second career with Welham Boys' School, Dehradun, from where he retired in 2003 as the Senior Tutor and finally for a brief period as the Principal. His interests include birdwatching, gardening. He is passionate about reading. He has had his articles published in the Statesman, Hindustan Times and The Assam Tribune, amongst other periodicals. His wife Reeti is also a keen gardener and has many other interests. Their two children, Diya and Vikram, are both settled in the U.S.A. 

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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, short, impossible, scary, funny or exciting but never dull. You will find yourself transported to another world! 
 
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