The Great Flood of '54

by Aloke Mookerjee and Bill Hudson 

Dear friends, I am most happy to publish post #200 today! Thanks to Aloke for sharing Bill Hudson's fascinating story with all of us. Over to Aloke. - Gowri

Aloke Mookerjee writes:

I had worked under Indrajit Singh in Nagrakata many years ago. He mentioned an article written by Bill Hudson, who was then the Manager of Ghatia T.E. It relates to a very special time of the heavy monsoon rains of the Dooars. Inder very kindly mailed the article to me and with his permission, I have reproduced it here exactly as it was written by Bill Hudson. I have also attached Bill’s hand drawn map of the Nagrakata region and beyond. Evidently little had changed in that area when I joined nine years later!

What makes Bill Hudson’s article immensely readable is that it vividly describes the devastation caused by the heavy monsoon rains through a destructive flood in the Nagrakata and Jaldhaka regions at a time long before I had even imagined being a tea planter. The familiarity of the Jamair flights and our own Grassmore airfield which he describes made me relive the scene with some nostalgia. 

Bill Hudson's story:

THE GREAT FLOOD OF ‘54

In Tea, we were pretty used to floods, almost every Monsoon – bridges washed away; roads breached; landslides, for which the Foothills of the Himalayas are notorious – and bad as they seemed, they were all minor, compared to the Great Flood, which happened in August 1954.

All day Sunday the Hills had been lost in black rain-clouds, and when we left the Club, after the Sunday -night Cinema, the talk was of rivers rising, and who was going to lose a bridge this time. Andy and Kitty Munro, who lived at Carron T.E., left early, knowing they had two small un-bridged rivers to cross, with children at home, in charge of the Ayah.

On Monday afternoon word reached me, on Ghatia, that they had not, in fact reached home, but were still stranded, on a small island between the rivers, having had to spend the night there, in their (small) car! It transpired, later, that they had crossed the first river, with some difficulty, but the next – only a few yards on – had risen FAR too much to attempt a crossing. And when they tried to turn back, even the first river had become quite impossible. So they had no alternative but to sleep the night in the car, as best they could.

Word spread quickly, and very soon all the planters of the District were assembled on the river bank, trying to devise ways and means of rescuing them. Both the normally-small rivers by now were raging torrents, at least 150 yards wide, and their island seemed to be getting smaller as we watched, helpless! We could see them and they us, so we could signal, but that was all. Many were the ideas tried, to get a rope to them – there was no way they could have got off their island, but we hoped we might be able to get some food to them – a Bow-and-Arrow was tried; then we tried driving a golf ball – anyone could drive a golf ball 150 yards, but not with a string attached, it transpired. One very brave coolie Carter even tried to gey his buffalo cart through (the theory being that the beasts can swim ANYTHING, while a wooden cart would float) but after only a few yards he, cart, and beasts, had to be rescued.

Come seven o’clock, and darkness, and the river getting no higher, and the river getting no higher, there was nothing we could do but – leave them! For a second night, with NO food, and (as we gathered from signals) NO CIGARETTES, or even matches! At least the river had stopped rising, and their car was perched on quite a high stoney bank, well above the water. And still it rained – but of course, it’s rain in the hills that create floods, not local rain.

At day break we were all on the river-bank again – thankful to see they were well, and cheery! And the river had dropped considerably, and was still dropping. But still there seemed no way of getting a rope to them.

By about ten o’clock the river had fallen considerably, so our brave Carter volunteered to have another shot at crossing with a long stout rope attached to his cart. And he succeeded!!! He remains one of my ‘unsung heroes’. He deserved a medal – but no doubt much happier with the few Rupees he received.

There still remined the job of getting them off! Neither of them fancied riding back over a rocky riverbed in a raging torrent, on a flimsy Buffalo Cart (I wouldn’t have done it!) so Richard Wilson and I, two of the stronger, and most regular swimmers, walked (?) over, hanging onto the rope, by now secured to trees on either side, taking with us flasks of coffee. As both Andy and Kitty were feeling more-than-a-little weak, but determined to get off their island some how, back we came, Richard (much bigger than me) hanging onto Andy, and me onto Kitty – all accomplished without much difficulty – to where the C.M.O. and many others were waiting with more coffee and what Andy at least wanted most – cigarettes. Off they went with the Doc. To hospital for a check-up – they were both ‘right-as-rain’ within two days, by which time they were able to be taken back to their own garden, AND THEIR CHILDREN. At least the coolies on the ‘wrong’ bank of the river were able to pass on word to the children and servants that all was well.

So ended the MUNROE SAGA. BUT, little did we know, that was ONLY THE BEGINNING OF THE HISTORY OF THE BIG FLOOD!! While waiting at the river, from somewhere came a rumour that the Jaldacca Road and Rail Bridges had both been washed away during Monday night. This was serious, since these two bridges were our link with the outside world! I shall have to explain – and draw another of my Maps! 

Bill Hudson's map. Please click on the image to enlarge it.

The districts in tea are entirely geographical- area cut off. One from the other, by rivers flowing South from the Himalayas, or (in Assam) North from the Garo and Manipur Hills. These districts are closer to the Hills, the farther one goes west, so the rivers are very fast flowing, and flowing in rocky, boulder-strewn beds. To the East the ground is generally less steep; the rivers much slower and wider, flowing beds of shale, or sand, or (further east) just silt – stone is very scarce in Assam. The Bengal Dooars (which word means literally Doors) lies right under the foothills – right on the Northern Border of India, with the Native (and Independent) State of Bhutan. In fact, the border is nothing more than a barbed wire fence, erected AND MAINTAINED by the tea companies. Bhutan used to be covered in forest, but now there are vast area which have been de-forested, causing major erosion problems.

Nagrakata District is bounded on the West by quite a large, fast flowing river, the Jaldaka (Jaldacca in some maps), in a reasonably well defined bed, and so not too difficult to bridge. To the East it is bounded by the Dinah River, which is quite different – fast flowing, but in a huge one-mile-wide ‘bed’ of shale and sand, with no single defined ‘river’ as such; easy enough to ‘ford’ in the dry weather; impossible in the monsoon; very difficult to bridge. The Railway has made use of some rocky outcrops, and long embankments which give constant trouble. So! To travel WEST from Nagrakata presents few problems. But to travel to the East in wet weather, one must first go West; then South for about twenty miles to beyond where the Dinah joins the Jaldaka; and turn east over a large iron bridge, on the Assam Trunk Road. This means that if anything happens to the Jaldaka Bridges, Nagrakata is completely cut off by road and rail.

Following the ‘Munro Saga’, off I (and others) went to check up on the rumour we’d heard. The Station Master at Nagrakata was able to confirm that the Rail Bridge (a huge iron bridge) had, ideed, been badly damaged, and there would be no trains for some time. A two-mile drive showed us that the stone-built Road Bridge (quite a major affair) had indeed been utterly destroyed, and the country-side around it had been devasted. The river itself was certainly in spate – but gave little indication how this devastation could have come about. One thing was certain! Nagrakata was CUT OFF!! How were we going to get TEA out to the Markets? How were we going to get FOOD IN? – not just food for ourselves, but for our labour forces, AND for the many local inhabitants?? It was obvious we could do nothing till the rivers subsided, and the Government (the Commissioner at Jalpaiguri) could get in touch with us. So – back to our Gardens, and carry on as usual. Then came another thought – WHAT ABOUT BAMANDANGA and TONDOO, our (Dooars Tea Co) two Gardens 10 miles south in the forest, and on the BANK of the Jaldaka?? In this weather, there was no way we could get to them by car over a road which was which was little more than a soil embankment. Messengers were sent off on foot, – and returned many hours later, to say that they could not get beyond the Tani-Tani River (see Map 3), but that the damage near Tani-Tani crossing was very bad. By now it was night – I don’t think any of us slept very well that night.

The Dooars Tea Co. had laid out a small grass ‘Airstrip’ just South of Grassmore in 1949 (during a Rail Strike) to fly in ‘essentials’, and from that time a small private Air Company flew in thrice-weekly (Mon.Wed.Fri.) service, to and from Calcutta. Using D.C.3s (Dakotas) their main business was Freight – we used to send our BEST teas to Calcutta in this way, mainly to keep the service running. What a blessing that we did!! This service would also take a few paying passengers – leaving Calcutta at 4am, and getting back there about mid-day – sometimes! It just so happened that Gaye had been born, in Calcutta, on Tuesday – the day we got the Munros off – and I had planned to go down to see ‘Mother and Daughter’ on Wednesday, taking Michael (aged 4) with me. My friend Keith Turner (Manager of Kurti T.E) and Cynthia, his wife, came and met me at the Airstrip, and when the plane arrived, we asked the Pilot to take us (incl. Michael) on a quick low-level flight over Tondoo/Bamandanga to see how things looked, and this he did.

Both Keith and I knew that area well – Keith had ‘Acted’ there, while the Manager was on Home Leave, and I (and Nora) had done a lot of shikar all over the area, over the years. But to start with, we couldn’t make out where we were flying over, the Jaldaka had changed completely, and was a scene of utter devastation, with acres of forest utterly destroyed. Eventually we found Bamandanga Tondoo – OR WHAT WAS LEFT OF IT!!! The whole garden was under water, with great sand banks sticking up where there should have been Tea! The Pilot (wonderful chap!) took us round again, at what should have been tree top height – but there were only a few trees! The Labour Lines (i.e. ‘Camps’ of Labour houses) had GONE!! The Factory was standing on water. The Manager’s Bungalow, on a very slight rise, was above water – we could see the Manager (Laurie Ginger) and his wife, and servants in their compound (garden) waving to us – no doubt, very pleased indeed to know that someone knew of their plight! THEN we realised that every tree still standing had literally hundreds of coolies clinging to its branches!!! There was nothing we could do but – a final overfly, waggling wings, and back to the Airstrip.

I still don’t like to think about my feelings. Keith I remember was absolutely white. Cynthia sobbing quietly. Michael, who couldn’t of course appreciate what he’d seen, did, I think, react to our horror – and burst into bitter tears – a thing he was NOT prone to do. That at least provided a distraction till we got back to Grassmore.

At the Airstrip – a quick consultation – Michael and I flew off to Calcutta, where I was able to pass on my first-hand information to the authorities via our Calcutta Agents – you cant pick up much information flying over an area, but at least I could convince them that this really WAS A MAJOR DISASTER. Keith (and I didn’t envy him) had to return to the gardens, and try to organise -----WHAT can you organise in such a case?? Just what they did, I wasn’t there to see, but everyone agrees, they were BOTH magnificent, and what they could do, they did – then, and in the succeeding days and weeks. No! he did not get a medal. He should have done – though it would only have embarrassed him!

The authorities really did take the whole business seriously. Food was flown in – for the food stores were washed away – Bamandanga, which suffered relatively little, was able to help here. Collapsible boats from the Army were rushed in, (to be used to rescue the poor folk in the trees) and tents as temporary shelter. Fortunately, the river level fell, almost as quickly as it had risen. But I doubt if we will ever know how many lives were lost. Bodies were found along the river banks – and even travelled almost to Calcutta, 400 miles South. Yet an astonishing number were saved!! – three very small and very frightened children were found floating in an upturned table nearly 50 miles away!

So far as I am aware, only ONE medal was presented, and that must be the strangest – and most deserved – ever! Our company kept an Elephant at Tondoo, called Lizzie. Age I believe around 40. She was kept in order to transport staff and visitors across Tani-Tani River during the Monsoon – I should perhaps explain that during the dry weather, when the river was very low, temporary crossings were made, which allowed cars to cross, but during the Rains the current was to strong for a boat, and the only way to cross was sitting on a large padded ‘cushion’, about six feet square, strapped to Lizzie’s back. A very odd sensation. First you could feel her treading very carefully – and how carefully and elephant CAN tread , feeling any obstruction – and then, suddenly it felt as though one was floating – Lizzie was swimming! Elephants are Very strong swimmers, and don’t get at all flustered. In between times, she was also available for Shikar (hunting) in the Forest, and many a Sunday morning Nora and I have spent doing just that. But that’s another story.

During the Tondoo Disaster, for days on end, and for more hours per day than an elephant is supposed to work, Lizzie (and of course her Mahout) walked/struggled through debris/swam all over the devasted area, rescuing people stuck up trees, or marooned on rocks. Normally, four people sit on the ‘Pad’ – I’ve been assured that during this time, Lizzie’s record was 24, excluding her Mahout – who sits on her neck – and that over quite a long distance. She used to swim to a tree, and hold up her trunk for the poor souls to slide down on to her back. If they were too scared – and who would blame them – she would pick them up in her trunk, and deposit them on the Pad. Just how many Lizzie saved will never be known – Laurie Ginger puts it well up in the hundreds, and he should know better than anyone else. There is NO DOUBT that many of these people would have died had she not been there.

After the disaster, on the personal recommendation of the Commissioner of N. Bengal, Lizzie was awarded a medal – the ASHOKA CHAKRA Class III, by the Government of India! Not very long after that, Lizzie went into a decline, and despite all efforts, she died. Many of us believe she killed herself rescuing others. So! Tondoo is no more – lost under a blanket of sand. And Lizzie is no more, - Lizzie, the elephant that one a medal, roughly similar to an M.B.E. in Britain.

I realise I have mentioned two names only, Keith Turner and Laurie Ginger, the two who were, without doubt, most closely involved in this dreadful disaster. In fact EVERYBODY in Nagrakata District, Managers, Assistants, Wives, Staff, took a very active part. And other companies threw in their resources without hesitation. A very fine example of co-operation about which very little has ever been heard, “all in the days work in Tea” was the feeling.

This co-operation, and unstinted assistance, was appreciated by our Company. A few months after, the Chairman of the Dooars Tea Company and the Managing Director came out from London, and presented to the Members of Nagrakata Club a very fine antique clock, with an inscription commemorating the event, at a function at the Club.

What was the reason for this disaster? Bhutan is a very sparsely-populated country, so it was quite some time before we learnt what had happened. As we had seen, on the Sunday, rainfall in the Hills had been particularly heavy. In the case of the Munros, this had just caused the river to rise suddenly, and more than usual. The Jaldaka case was different. The heavy rain caused a major landslide, which dammed the river valley completely, high up in the Hills, forming quite a large size lake. After twenty-four hours the pressure became too great, and the dam burst. Nobody saw it happen, as it must have been during the night, but the ‘wall’ of water released must have been enormous. The effect looked very similar to the photos I’ve seen of the devastation after the DAMBUSTERS Raid, during the war. Complete and utter devastation over many miles. Because the damage was so very extensive, it was many years before the road and bridge, could be rebuilt – when I left Nagrakata in 1958 to become Visiting Agent in Assam, it had still not been rebuilt. A vast amount of money had to be spent, building great stone ‘Bunds’ or banks, to try to protect Bamandanga, but – it could happen again anytime! 

Editor's note: I have not made any changes/edits to Bill Husdon's story. 

And I 'd like thank Venk Shenoi for sending this photograph after he read the story.

Venk writes, 'I am attaching a photo of Lauri Ginger, who's mentioned in this write-up, with Anna Shenoi, taken at the Planters’ Meet in Stratford upon Avon in 2013. We both knew him in the early 1960s when he was Manager at Bhagatpore TE.

 Lauri was an interesting person to converse with despite his advancing years and had not changed much over the 50+ years since the early 1960s. His memory of events and people was fascinating. Lauri passed away in 2013, not long after this photo was taken.'

Meet the writers:

Bill Hudson - By Aloke Mookerjee

Before his transfer on promotion, in 1958, as the Visiting Agent of the King William House Group of Companies, Bill Hudson took care of Ghatia Tea Estate. He was an efficient and dedicated manager, much loved and admired by the workers and staff. I was told that on the day of his departure from Ghatia, the entire work force of the estate assembled and lined up on both sides of the main road to bid farewell to their own ‘Huttison Saab’.

Bill was a gentleman to the core with a good deal of presence and flair. He spoke with a distinctive lisp, which we, as young assistants, delighted in aping (behind his back of-course)! To me, the image of a quintessential Englishman came alive when I saw this distinguished gentleman of middle age, stepping out of a motor car at the Ghatia office front, clad in a herringbone patterned tweed coat, corduroy trousers and ‘Hush Puppy’ suede ankle boots, when this brand was held in awe by us all, as the most stylish out of reach footwear. A monocle, firmly attached to one eye with a dangling ribbon, completed the Englishman’s picture! 

Meet Aloke Mookerjee:

 

I am a planter long retired from the Dooars  as well as Assam and Papua New Guinea where I worked in tea and coffee for several years. I have been writing about my life in tea. These are really ...the early impressions received by a young 'greenhorn ' of those times upon his arrival at the plantations.

 

Even after all this time, tea remains alive in my thoughts; those were the best years of my life.  I have relocated to Goa recently and its hot and humid weather is taking me back to my 'tea days'. Alas, I cannot say that of the cold weather here. Nothing could beat the wonderful cold months of NE India!

 

Other interests? Always loved jazz music - still do - and have written about this incredible genre. Love vintage airplanes (thus my love for Dakotas!) and cars, and intend to make this my next focus.'  

 

Here is the link to all posts by Aloke - Stories by Aloke Mookerjee

Aloke's book, The Jazz Bug, is available on Amazon. Read about it here: https://notionpress.com/read/the-jazz-bug?fbclid=IwAR2HjxSU2rY6sq5cX_lzBxJY5oat1i_Z22qKdRRP1Tm77Dqp48B2CAlnGvY 

 

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