‘My long tenure as an assistant manager of Ghatia Tea Estate was frequently punctuated by residence switches between the estate’s ancient ‘Factory Bungalow’ and the relatively new and popularly known, ‘Honeymoon Bungalow’ in the distant ‘Upper Division’. The two ‘chota’ bungalows were very unlike each other. The far-away Honeymoon Bungalow, was compact and contemporary in style with bright lights and fans that came to life by the crank of its own ‘AC genset’ installed within the compound while the old factory bungalow was built on stilts with thin ‘crete’ walls and wooden floors. The vintage floor, pitted and marked, creaked eerily with each footstep but still glowed with genteel charm by the vigourous rubs of ‘mansion polish’ it received at regular intervals! Unlike its far away counterpart, the factory-supplied electricity to this old bungalow did little for its lights and fans. The lights remained dismally dim and the dated DC ‘punkhas’, reminiscent of the ‘Raj’ days, revolved labouriously with ominous groans and grunts!
Being a passionate dog lover, Neena had no problem with my loving rogue, Panda, who had accompanied me from my earlier garden, Nagrakata. Panda took to his new mistress quickly. Soon after, we acquired through Bill and Topsy Grice, a yellow Labrador pup of an impressively long lineage authenticated by the famed Collinson’s Kennel in Darjeeling. Little Tippy immediately became the spoilt child of the family. Happily, Panda took to the adorable new addition straight away. They romped around the bungalow compound joyfully together all day long as two (disparate) peas in a pod. Sometime later we got a third dog. A beautifully proportioned miniature dachshund, whom Neena had left behind in Calcutta, now entered our household. This time, Panda was deeply disturbed. He made clear to us, the dislike for this male upstart from a city now trespassing in his own sublime country domain. It was only after a great deal of stern talk from Neena that Panda learnt to accept Put Put as part of the family, but only just so. He chose to remain aloof and indifferent to the ‘sausage’.
So, there we were now, quite happy with our three dogs in our antiquated little house when news arrived that an American friend of Neena’s mother would be soon coming upcountry to stay with us for a few days with his wife and two children. It thus transpired that, Dr. Gerry Schad from Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore (then working on a research project in Calcutta at the Johns Hopkins International Center for Medical Research and Training) arrived with his wife Donna, their perky nine year old son Eric and their adorable ‘doll like’ daughter Lisa, all of fives. On their arrival, the unique traditions of life in tea began unfurling before the Schads. Gerry was curious about the strongly entrenched British customs that were still very much in evidence in the day-to-day life of a tea planter. For the casual American, curiosity soon gave way to awe at the living standards - even at the level of an young assistant manager. He and Donna had never before seen a ‘mem-saab’ ringing a little hand bell to call the liveried bearer for service at the dining table or a bath being prepared for the ‘saab’ at the perfect temperature when he returned from work every evening or a glass of plain drinking water being brought in promptly and soft footedly on a silver salver whenever asked for!
The climax of such services, as seen by the Schads, touched new heights one fine day when we were seeking Gerry’s advice on how best we could get rid of the fleas that seemed to be emerging from the gaps between the old floorboards and settling on Tippy’s otherwise fine coat. We were applying a flea powder that was helping but not fully. Gerry wanted to take a look at the powder and so, the indispensable little hand-bell was reached out for and delicately shaken. On the prompt appearance of our bearer, he was asked to bring the tin of flea powder for the ‘bahar ka saab’*. Soon after, entered the bearer with the powder tin standing proud on a silver salver! For us this mundane act became a jaw dropping moment for our American guest, of what he perceived as a ceremonial act from a bygone age! He never got over the little incident and the story of the ‘flea powder on a silver platter’ spread far and wide amongst his circle of friends!
Eric, being the son of an eminent doctor/professor, knew a lot for his age, particularly biology. He had come armed with a butterfly net to trap the odd moth or butterfly that he knew would certainly be hovering close by in the clean tea-country air. He was not wrong! One beautiful balmy evening, the large French widows of the drawing room (without mosquito netting) were left wide open to let in the cool and pleasant breeze. At some point of time, it did also let in a huge colourful moth with a wingspan of about 8”. The lepidoptera floated around the room dodging the ‘fearful’ sweeping blades of the groaning ‘punkha’ and eventually parked itself on one of the thin crete walls. Little Eric jumped up and down in high excitement at this rare sight and in his stockinged feet quickly thudded off to the bedroom for the butterfly net. Meanwhile, the moth, perhaps disturbed by the commotion caused by Eric, flew off the wall only to succumb to gravity with a perpendicular dive down to the floor.
Now sadly, for both moth and Eric, our ‘sausage’ Put Put who had been, so far, watching all the excitement quietly with the patience of an experienced predator now sprang to action. Skidding and sliding on the polished floor, he raced up to the moth and in one big bite and quick gulp, killed and swallowed up the poor creature. Thus vanished, in a jiffy, the slightest evidence of a ‘living being’ that was a reality only moments back. Having done with his body and soul satisfying deed, Put Put was quickly back to the corner in his usual supine position with what I thought was a look of blissful satisfaction! Just then, Eric races into the room, his net waving wildly. Screeching to a halt, he looks around for the moth that was there just moments ago. At the sight of the blank wall before him, his expression changes from thrill and expectation to utter bafflement. “The moth? Where is the moth?”, he eventually blurts out. In a serious tone I replied truthfully, “Eric you would be sad to know that Put Put has eaten up the moth”. Now visibly disturbed, Eric walks up to the fat sausage and looks down sternly at him with arms akimbo. He then shakes his head a few times and addresses offender with the firmness of a disapproving parent, “Put Put” he says in an admonishing tone, “YOU’LL NEVER LEARN”!
‘Put Put, you’ll never learn’ has since become an immortal phrase in our family and friends’ circles whenever one wishes to put another on line, gently but firmly! Eric was a bright, talkative and sprightly boy. We were unaware of his pet hate – spinach soup (we would soon enough to know of it)! Little blond Lisa, on the other hand, was quieter but sharp and observant.
Ignorant of Eric’s culinary dislikes, our cook decided one evening, to prepare the boy’s ‘bête noire’ as the first course for dinner. When the green broth was placed before us on the table, Eric took a long disturbed look and announced with steely firmness that he would not touch this ‘distasteful’ stuff. His seemingly unbreakable resolve, however, began to crack soon after by what seemed a convincing explanation from Neena, (backed by his parents) that, it was not spinach soup at all. The cook had merely added a green food colour to a plain chicken broth! Somewhat convinced, Eric started eating the soup albeit a bit hesitantly to begin with. Soon after, we realized with some relief that he had begun to actually enjoy the green broth. Now, all this time, little Lisa seemed unconcerned and quietly eating her soup with relish. Just when Eric had settled in comfortably with the regular spoonsful, Lisa still looking intently at her plate, was heard announcing very clearly, “It’s spinach soup, stupid!”. That did it! Eric’s spoon came clattering down and no amount of persuasion could get him to lift it again!
Memory also takes me back to the occasions when Eric and Lisa would entertain us in the evenings by performing little skits they had created on their own; and of Donna (who found it impossible to keep awake after dinner} quietly dozing off as we listened to Gerry's fascinating ramblings on the various types of frogs he had spotted in Ghatia or of his research on hookworms that took him into the villages of interior West Bengal.
Meanwhile, of our three dogs, Panda quickly became Lisa’s favourite. She would be seen spending all her time with the little scallywag with a ‘jalebi’* tail. Both appeared to enjoy every moment of their time together. This mutual love and admiration continued for all the days the Schads were with us.
The days went by and sadly, as we know, all good things do come to an end. The Schads’ holiday was finally over and the day arrived for them to depart. We were to drive them to Bagdogra for their Indian Airlines flight back to Calcutta. While their luggage was being loaded on to the car, Lisa quietly appeared before us and announced with great firmness that she had decided to take Panda with her. Her determination was very disturbing for Gerry and Donna who immediately sat with their daughter to explain at length why her decision was not a wise one as Panda would surely be very unhappy living anywhere but her own Ghatia home. Lisa seemed to understand this. Pensive but still unrelenting in the thought of parting with Panda, she appeared to have found a new solution. She now wanted to stay on with us in our bungalow, so as to remain with Panda and she would now not have it any other way! Her increasing determination was very upsetting for her parents and she was eventually forced into the car, crying loudly for Panda.
That day, little Lisa cried all the way to Bagdogra and in the airport for as long as we could see her. Donna and Gerry turned to wave us goodbye. They gestured from the distance that Lisa was still crying for Panda as they disappeared into the cabin. The aircraft took off with Lisa but alas without Panda!
Sadly, Donna and Gerry are no more. Eric is apparently a doctor in USA now and of the whereabouts of cute little Lisa, I have no information. Sometimes I wonder if Eric and Lisa have any recollection of their unique holiday in the tea plantations of India with Panda who was left behind and of the greedy Put Put who deprived a little boy of his prize catch by gleefully gobbling it up!
PS Much of Gerry Schad’s life and passion was unknown to us. Excerpts taken from his obituary that appeared on April 29, 2009 reveal a remarkably interesting and brilliant man: “Gerhard Adam Schad, 81, of Chadds Ford, a professor of parasitology at the University of Pennsylvania School of Veterinary Medicine for more than 35 years, died of cancer at home…Dr. Schad was an enthusiastic world traveler, wildlife photographer and fly fisherman. His first wife died in 1998. In 2003 he married Margaret Mulqueen in Cape May, where they enjoyed weekends birdwatching…In addition to his wife, Dr. Schad is survived by a son, Eric; daughter, Lisa; five stepchildren; and nine grandchildren.” “…He published more than 150 scientific articles. His recent research involved understanding how certain parasitic worms are able to find the people and animals they are going to infect… …In 1964 he accepted a position at Johns Hopkins International Center for Medical Research and Training in Calcutta. His work in India resulted in the publication of classic studies that are required reading for students of hookworm parasites.”
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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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