From Milan to Darjeeling, Louis Mandelli - Tea Planter & Naturalist

 by Sarita Dasgupta

Dear readers, I'm delighted to bring you Sarita Dasgupta's latest for Indian Chai Stories. Thank you, Sarita, for taking all of  us to another time and place with this fascinating story of the Italian aristocrat who became a Darjeeling tea planter! 

Darjeeling has some of the most picturesque tea estates with stunning views of the Himalayas, and the teas produced on the slopes of those estates have a unique flavour and aroma. Diehard ‘fans’ call them the Champagne of Teas. In the pioneering days of Darjeeling tea plantations, many intrepid Europeans arrived to make their fortunes. Most of them were British, but Louis Mandelli, a tea planter and amateur ornithologist who settled in the Darjeeling area in the mid-1800s, was an Italian aristocrat from Milan.

Louis’ father, Jerome, was the son of Count Castel-Nuovo, a nobleman who owned property in both Italy and Malta. Filled with the nationalistic zeal propagated by Guiseppe Mazzini, Jerome is believed to have joined Mazzini’s newly formed secret society called ‘Young Italy’, created to fight for the unification of Italy. He became an ardent admirer and follower of the legendary Guiseppe Garibaldi, considered to be one of the greatest generals of modern times, and “the only wholly admirable figure in modern history”, according to the historian A. J. P. Taylor.

When Garibaldi sailed to South America to escape the death sentence pronounced on him after an uprising in Piedmont, Jerome accompanied him, leaving his wife and one-year-old son, Louis, in the care of his father in Milan. By the time he returned to Italy with Garibaldi in 1848, Louis was a young lad of sixteen.

It is not known why Jerome gave up his family name of Castel-Nuovo, and took up his mother’s surname, Mandelli, instead, but this he did, and his son was thereafter known as Louis Hildebrand Mandelli. 

Pix of Runglee Rungliot Tea Garden, c. 2008, by Partha Dey.  All other pix sourced by the author from the internet.

 How Louis reached Darjeeling in 1864 is quite a mystery, but he started his career in tea as Manager of Lebong & Minchu Tea Garden and the neighbouring Mineral Springs Tea Garden. In 1872, Mandelli was given charge of the Chongtong Tea Garden as well. In those days, even neighbouring estates were not easily accessible because of the terrain, and it was quite an arduous task for Mandelli to manage the three estates, which covered a total of 1350 acres under tea. 

In one of Mandelli’s forty-eight letters found by British historian, late Fred Pinn, at the Natural History Museum, South Kensington, UK in 1985, he writes to his ornithologist friend, Andrew Anderson, the District Judge at Fatehgarh: “I have three gardens to look to, and large ones, and I am in the midst of manufacturing. I have been away from my place for the last 20 days to another garden under my charge as my Assistant there was doing everything wrong...I have no time to spare now a days.” This letter was dated 3 May 1873. In another letter dated 29 June 1873, he writes, “I could not find time...being so busy looking after three gardens under my charge, and each of them is at a great distance from one to another, so I have to remain at each for days and days, hence the delay.”

More interesting is another letter to Anderson, dated 25 June 1876, in which Mandelli sums up the challenges faced by a tea planter. He writes: “I can assure you, the life of a Tea Planter is by far from being a pleasant one, especially this year: drought at first, incessant rain afterwards, and to crown all, cholera amongst coolies, beside the commission from home to inspect the gardens, all these combined are enough to drive anyone mad.” I am sure that even a century and a half later, many a present-day tea planter will echo these words!

Lebong tea garden was established in 1842 by Harrisons Tea Company, and later merged with Mineral Springs tea garden, or “Dawai Pani” as it is called locally. The estate suffered many reversals and ultimately ceased to function as a tea production centre.

Chongtong (‘arrow-head’ in the local Lepcha language) was planted out by a British planter, and changed hands several times since then. The estate is doing well, producing organic tea which is popular among tea drinkers for its legendary flavour.

In 1871, Mandelli became part-owner of the 70-acre Bycemaree Tea Estate in the Siliguri area, along with Mr W.R. Martin. With the help of a hundred workers, they produced 10,800 pounds of tea in the first year, which almost doubled to 20,560 pounds in the second year. It is surmised that since Mandelli was already looking after three estates, he was a ‘sleeping partner’ in this enterprise, with Martin being the ‘Proprietor-Manager’.

Two years later, the duo bought the 160-acre Manjha estate, near Pankhabari. Manjha produced the world’s most expensive tea a few years ago, but unfortunately had to suspend all work in April 2018.

In 1875, Mandelli and Martin sold Manjha, buying and establishing the picturesque 200-acre Kyel Tea Estate in 1876. It is believed that when he first saw the place, Mandelli was struck by how “magical and mystical” it was. Kyel Tea Estate was sold to the Evandeon family in 1880, perhaps after Louis Mandelli’s untimely death. They managed it till 1955, when it was sold to Duncan Brothers, who in turn ran it for half a century. In 2006, the Chamong Group bought the tea garden.

When the daughter of the owners of Lingia Tea Estate was married to the owner of Kyel Tea Estate, (perhaps someone of the Evandeon family) a part of Lingia was given to the bride and groom as a wedding gift. This division was called Marybong (‘Mary’s place’ in the Lepcha language). Later, the merged estate was renamed Marybong Tea estate and so it remains. Marybong is now renowned for its first flush orthodox Darjeeling tea with its flowery aroma and unique flavour.

The rise in Louis Mandelli’s fortunes and his success as a tea planter can be gauged by his purchase of estates as well as a tract of land in the heart of Darjeeling town. According to ‘Darjeeling Past and Present’, Calcutta 1922, by EC Dozey, this area was renamed Mandelligunge, but all trace of it has now been lost. It is believed that Mandelligunge might have been what is now known as Nehru Road.

Unfortunately, calamities such as drought, excessive rain, and diseases like cholera, affected Mandelli’s fortunes, which began to go downhill, causing his health to suffer as a result. He died at the age of forty-eight in 1880, under circumstances now shrouded in mystery, and was buried in the Catholic Singtom Cemetery, quite close to Lebong, where he started his career as a tea planter. 

 His headstone bears the following inscription:

“Sacred to the memory of Louis Mandelli, for 17 years the respected Manager of Lebong and Minchee Tea Estate Darjeeling, who during his residence in this district, gained for himself an European reputation as an Ornithologist. He died on the 22nd February 1880, aged 48 years. This monument is erected by some of his numerous friends in India.”

Records in the local Roman Catholic church show that he married a lady called Ann Jones, possibly hailing from Calcutta, in 1865. They had five children – two boys and three girls. One of the sons, named for his father, worked as a travelling Inspector for the Railways. All three daughters lived on in Darjeeling well into the 1920s. It is also believed that the family may later have managed the legendary Firpos restaurant in Calcutta, established by another Italian – Angelo Firpos.

Louis Mandelli’s contribution to the tea industry in his seventeen years as a tea planter was not unremarkable – he started by managing three estates, and went on to own three of them. It is, however, his contribution in the field of ornithology as an amateur bird watcher and collector which is more significant.

Mandelli had no training or even a love for ornithology until he came to Darjeeling. In one of his letters to Andrew Anderson, he writes that if one didn’t have an interest in ornithology, “then I should say Darjeeling is not your place. The rains are frightful, the dampness horrible and the fog so dense that you cannot see few yards before you … the leeches will eat you alive, besides all other discomforts to go through.” Obviously, it was his new found interest in identifying birds that helped him cope with all the discomforts he mentioned in his letter.

(On a personal note - as someone for whom one of the chief pleasures of living on a tea estate was watching the different birds that flew around, I can fully understand Mandelli’s interest!)

It appears that his interest in collecting birds began in 1869. In one of his first letters to Anderson in 1873 he writes: “I am as yet a very poor ornithologist and quite ‘Kutcha’ about Raptores. Brooks (William Edwin Brooks -famous ornithologist and Mandelli’s mentor) is teaching me ‘in epistolis’ a good deal about small birds, and I dare say in due time I shall know the Birds of Prey also.”

In his next letter he says: “I am very poor in Grallatores, Natatores & Raptores, & to tell you the truth I know very little about them. I am going to study the Raptores when you send me yours.”

Mandelli spent a great deal of his spare time, and his own money, in documenting the native bird population. It is astonishing to note how he became an authority on birds in the course of less than ten years, considering what little reference material he had at his disposal! Much of his findings are still used and valued today, and his work helped put Darjeeling and its surrounding areas on the ornithological map. He generously gifted many of his specimens to museums in Darjeeling and Calcutta, the British Museum in London, and the Milan Museum. He was elected as a member of the Asiatic Society of Bengal in December 1877.

Mandelli exchanged specimens with renowned ornithologist, Alan Octavian Hume, and felt outraged when he thought that the latter had ‘stolen’ some of the rarer ones, claiming them as his own discoveries. However, Hume did give Mandelli credit for his finds, and even bought the latter’s bird collection after his death, presenting it to the British Museum. The specimens are now displayed at the Natural History Museum at Tring, Hertfordshire, which is around 30 miles away from Central London. The museum, which was the private property of Lionel Walter, 2nd Baron Rothschild, before it came under the Natural History Museum, London, was established in 1889. Mandelli’s bird specimens are among 4,000 of the finest collection of stuffed and mounted mammals, birds and reptiles exhibited there.

Some of the birds discovered by Mandelli and named after him are the Pellorneum ruficeps Mandelli, a puff-throated babbler, Arborophila Mandelli Hume, the red-breasted hill partridge, Phylloscopus Inornatus Mandelli Brooks, a leaf warbler, Certhia Mandelli, a tree creeper, Minla Mandelli, a tit-babbler, Locustella Mandelli, the russet bush warbler, and Mandelli's Snowfinch, the white-rumped snowfinch. He also discovered the now-endangered Myotis Sicarius or Mandelli's mouse-eared bat.

Louis Mandelli has been gone for over a century and a half, but generation after generation of the birds named after him are still flying around, and will hopefully continue to do so for centuries to come.

A man could be immortalized for less! 

Meet the writer: Sarita Dasgupta

Sarita enjoying a warm cup of Kawakawa tea in New Zealand. 

Read about it here

 

"As a ‘chai ka baby’ (and grandbaby!) and then a ‘chai ka memsahab’, I sometimes wonder if I have tea running through my veins! 

I have been writing for as long as can remember – not only my reminiscences about life in ‘tea’ but also skits, plays, and short stories. My plays and musicals have been performed by school children in Guwahati, Kolkata and Pune, and my first collection of short stories for children, called Feathered Friends, was published by Amazing Reads (India Book Distributors) in 2016. My Rainbow Reader series of English text books and work books have been selected as the prescribed text for Classes I to IV by the Meghalaya Board of School Education for the 2018-2019 academic session, and I have now started writing another series for the same publisher.

More stories by Sarita here : https://teastorytellers.blogspot.com/search/label/Sarita%20Dasgupta

 

Is this your first visit here? Welcome to Indian Chai Stories! 
Do you have a chai story of your own to share? Send it to me here, please : indianchaistories@gmail.com. 

 

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! 
 
Happy reading! Cheers to the spirit of Indian Tea!
ADD THIS LINK TO YOUR FAVOURITES : 

https://teastorytellers.blogspot.com/ 

The Story of Javara the Redeemer

by V.R.Srikanth 

An enchanting glimpse into the fascinating world where the Eastern and Western Ghats meet - the Biligirirangans!! Thanks to V.R.Srikanth for introducing us to the area. He writes about Javara with love and gentle humour, and has woven some interesting plantation history into this story. As always, Sri has embellished the piece with some excellent photography!!

The Biligirirangans are a stand-alone mountain range of about 524 sq.kms to the east/south-east of Mysore and to the north/north-west of the Nilgiris. The range is literally the meeting point of the Western and Eastern Ghats. It is a wildlife lover’s dream comprising of five forest zones, viz. scrub, deciduous, riprarian evergreen, shola sand and grasslands. In truth a highly heterogeneous mosaic of habitats.

The magnificent mix of endemic Shola forests with grasslands in the Upper Reaches of the Biligirirangans.

The hills rise from a basal plateau about 600 metres above msl to over 1800 metres above msl. This splendidly isolated range is inhabited by the native Sholinga tribe. The range was first pioneered by Randolph Hayton Morris of Scottish descent who ran away from home at the age of 18 to work on a ship, and later landed in India in 1877, during the year of the great famine. Initially, he became a coffee planter in Coorg during the coffee boom, and later shifted to the Nilgiris.

As he gazed upon these inviting hills from the northern edge of Nilgiris across the northern side of the River Moyar that separates these two ranges, his urge to explore this elephant infested terrain overcame him. As he set across the Moyar Gorge with his hunting team hacking their way across dense impenetrable tropical rain forests, his infatuation with this virtual heaven was complete. After a few more hunting trips he secured a grant from the erstwhile Government of Mysore and started cultivating coffee by living in tents and clearing forests around the 1890s. Over time he and his family planted over 1600 acres of this magnificent mountain range which is a crossing point of animals between the two Ghats.

Gaur numbers are prolific throughout

During one of his hunting trips with his wife Mabel and a couple of friends in 1895, Morris was gored by a Gaur which charged at him and tossed him in the air . One of the Gaur’s horns pierced his chest and removed one of his lungs in the process. 

Quick patchwork by his wife ensured that that he kept breathing through the six inch gaping hole amidships until medical help arrived. Although he didn’t recover fully he lingered for quite a while and died of pneumonia in 1918. He was buried at the top of his favourite hill at Bellaji where they were to build a rather commodious hunting lodge replete with servants' quarters and the lot. From their bungalow at Garstead in Gorrayhatti, the Morrises could view game moving on the opposite hill at Bellaji where they could either ride or drive up by means of a road they built between the bungalow and the lodge. 

Which brings us to the subject of this story.

The last of the Morrises exited India finally in the 1970s and out of their four coffee estates, two were purchased by the Birlas, one by my wife’s late uncle and one by my own late uncle who was a first cousin of my dearly departed late mother, during various phases preceding the departure of the Morris family. Sometime after the death of my wife’s uncle, my wife and I moved to Bedaguli Estate to manage it for her family. Bedaguli was a splendid 330 acre speciality Arabica coffee property located in a valley bowl, with rich soil and perennial streams flowing through it. It was also bang in the middle of the range and a crossing point for all the fauna between the western and eastern flanks of the range.

Now our Hero Jawara was in his late 50s in 2006 and had served the Morrisses as a worker. He had by now become a ‘maistry’ and led a team of labour in assigned field operations. He was every estate owner’s dream, fiercely loyal, a model worker who led by example in performing any field risk, a habitual volunteer for any contingency and ever cheerful. He would on many an occasion on Sunday mornings follow me while maintaining a respectful distance as I walked along our entire estate boundary checking on the state and integrity of our fences as elephants frequently damaged them. Jawara would do this voluntarily without my ever asking him. Often, along the path, he would recount experiences that either he or the Morrises had encountering animals at specific locations.

Sloth Bears are plentiful during the day too. Can be very dangerous if one is isolated and lagging behind.

The odd boar can launch a surprise attack and cause a lot of damage.

We had some guests from Chennai staying with us and they expressed the desire to go on a long trek. I had always wanted to trek up to the now abandoned hunting lodge and visit the grave of Randolph Morris at Bellaji. As it entailed a good eight to ten km trek one way traversing a couple of hills, and as nearly all of the route was outside the estate and within the forest area, I had to obtain the necessary permission of the Forest Department. They were quick to grant it and rather graciously deputed two unarmed guards to accompany us. Jawara, on hearing about this, volunteered to show us the way and lead the party with one guard at the head and another at the tail of the group.

We set out after breakfast on a brilliant cloudless day. As it was an uphill path until we negotiated the traverse sections the going was slow as we stopped to drink water, take in the sights, enjoy the shade of the sholas and grasslands and look at the animals whenever they appeared. As it was during the day, there were thankfully no elephants but plenty of gaur, sambur, the odd barking deer, civet and leopard cats and Malabar squirrel sightings along the way with the usual langurs. Jawara was also able to extract honeycombs within hollows of shola trees. There were still a few left after the sloth bears had extracted their due share. The honey was very tasty with distinct scents and flavours thanks to the rich flora in the vicinity.

We reached our spot a little after noon and having partaken our picnic lunch we we took turns exploring nearby sholas, resting, taking in the sights of the eastern plains and the craggy mountain landscape in our immediate vicinity, an ideal habitat for raptors like like hawk eagles, serpent eagles, and Shaheen falcons. We didn’t realise that time had passed so quickly that it was nearing half past three in the afternoon, when elephants and gaur would start to emerge from the sholas. The prospect of running into either a single or a herd of elephants either within the sholas or the exposed grasslands was really scary and daunting.

After repeated exhortations by Jawara and the guards to leave at once, we set out reluctantly at nearly four pm. Jawara insisted on going in advance to track the movement of animals in the upper grasslands from where we we were supposed to commence our final descent into Bedaguli. The grasslands covered a span of nearly three kms in length, about a third of the trek that was completely exposed in between the sholas surrounding it. It was not unusual for herds of gaur and sambur to stampede through them while fleeing predators. Herds of elephants too, would be found grazing in them so crossing it was always a tad risky.

The Upper Reaches are blessed by the Southwest and Northeast monsoons. Waterholes are plentiful.

Being fleet of foot despite his advancing years Jawara built up quite a lead on us as we stooped to take pictures, gaze longingly at the trees, birds and small game within the shola, and as we emerged from one of them we could see that Jawara was positioned perfectly at the top and at the point from where were to begin our intended descent a bout a kilometre ahead of us. However there were sholas on all three sides of where he stood except for the south where there were still a couple of kilometres of grassland behind him. No sooner had we observed him a herd of gaur started to emerge from the shola on the eastern side tour left and to his right. Jawara was quick to point to the herd. 

Meanwhile we advanced rather cautiously keeping our eyes peeled on the herd who were grazing quite contentedly on the fringe of the shola they had emerged from. But they were about a dozen strong with a couple of young calves and a huge alpha male which was always going to be risky. By now rain clouds had started to build from the south west and were heading in our direction.

A few minutes later an alarm call emerged from the shola on the right and a small herd of sambur emerged and stampeded eastwards from the shola on the west a few hundred yards behind where Jawara was standing. There must have been a predator in the shola from where the sambur had fled. Jawara now stood facing us with arms held out to both sides and nervously kept turning back and looking behind him from where by now a couple of elephants emerged in the distance on the southern extreme behind Jawara and directly in front of us. 

They must have been at least a kilometre and half behind Jawara. Meanwhile it had become cold and misty with Jawara disappearing from our view in the thick mist, his body facing us and his arms held out to the sides. I quickly knelt and said there’s Christ the Redeemer in the form of ‘Jawara’, rather like the statue of Christ that towers above on the hill facing Rio de Janeiro. That was our last and enduring image of the day.

 

By now it had started to rain and visibility had reduced to a few metres. As we trudged slowly and cautiously talking loudly, hollering out names, breaking into song, Jawara was nowhere to be found. He had clearly ditched us and fled. We reached our bungalow by seven pm, wet, terrified yet considerably relieved, as to add to our problems there was plenty of lightning around during the final phase of our descent. A change of clothes, a warm fire and the comfort of good scotch and coffee composed us in no time for all of the group to relate the day’s and in particular, the last few hours’ experience to my wife who had wisely stayed at home.

Jawara was never the same again. He never attempted to meet my gaze at muster despite my assuring him that he had done all that we had asked of him until he had to ensure his own safety as a wage earner and head of his family. He was still an able maistry who continued to follow me voluntarily on my routine Sunday walk along the estate boundary but hardly ever spoke a word. I gave him a hefty Diwali bonus that year from my own money but even that would not break his embarrassed reticence. There were tears in his eyes as I shook his hand when I took his leave for the last time after we sold the estate. I will relate the tale to Randolph and Ralph Morris one day.

Another picture to bring the setting of this story to the reader's eye

 

Meet the writer: V.R.Srikanth:

I am a resident of the Nilgiris. I am a retired Corporate Management Professional having done two brief stint as a planter, nearly thirty years apart, mainly in Coffee. I live on my estate growing timber, organic herbs and vegetables.

Is this your first visit here? Welcome to Indian Chai Stories!
Do you have a chai story of your own to share?  
Send it to me here, please : indianchaistories@gmail.com. 

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! 

Early Plantation Days in the Nilgiris

Hello again, dear readers! Birthday month at Indian Chai Stories (we turned three!!) and family time! That's right, 'family time'. Radha Madapa**, and later her mother-in-law Vina had written about their lives as cha memsaabs, and now a third member of the Madapa family, their 'Big Chief' writes a fascinating and engaging account of his early days in tea. Enjoy your read! -Gowri

by Codanda Tata Madappa

With my children Navina & Vinod, Lauriston Estate, 1965

I was born in my grandfather's house in a coffee estate in Kodagu(Coorg). As a senior student in 1942, I participated in the Quit India Movement in my hometown Madikeri - taking part in protests, shouting slogans, demanding that the British leave India. I was a school boy of around ten years, when Gandhiji visited Somwarpet (again in Kodagu), and I had the good fortune to not only be present but also to be in the front, and he gave me an orange! 

After my graduation in the early '50s when I got a job, as fate would have it, I had to report to a Britisher in the plantations. The company I joined was called Ouchterlony Valley Estates (1938) Limited, situated at the foothills of the Nilgiris. Goodness me, the environment and weather was akin to my home district of Kodagu. The Valley was known for eye catching water falls, birds and wildlife, scenic beauty, scope for fishing and duck shooting. It was exciting indeed to hear tigers roaring on the mountain ridges during the mating season. 

With the Minkleys, Kelly Estate,1955

The property of about 15 thousand acres was once owned by Colonel Ouchterlony. Subsequently it was inherited by Wobshire and family. Due to repeated losses through the years of war, the property had to be floated as a Limited Company. Peirce Leslie Limited cornered the major shares and thus took over the management and administration, with their Head Office at Calicut, Kerala. When I joined the company, they had 1500 acres of tea and 4500 acres of coffee with factories and pulpers. Later years cardamom and pepper too. One coffee pulper was inaugurated by Lord Lytton, the then Viceroy of India, on 17/9/1877. On elephant back he was treated to Shikaar. When I joined, there were seven British Managers and one Indian called Menon. John Hamilton Wilkes was the General Manager. I was posted at Glenvans Estate and shared the bungalow with a British Assistant Manager called John Macliment. 

A beautiful, good natured horse called Lancashire was kept at my disposal so I could execute my duties. Syce was a person called Kathamuthu who was a smart fellow. Rain, cold or sunshine, off to duty exactly at 7:30 a.m. Later years when they did away with horses I bought a secondhand 3.5 HP BSA motorbike for Rs.2,000. As time rolled on, the Plantation Labour Act came into force. Labour Unions were well organised and so also staff. Those days in order to have better control over labour force“Kangani System” was there. This gave labour supervisors absolute power over labour ,i.e, apart from wages the supervisors were earning commission per head. More labour, more commission. Thus more extraction of work and turnover. Soon the government banned this system.

As anticipated, the British planters started getting back one by one. Eventually labour unrest increased with the change of management style- Harthals and demanding more wages,etc. The first Indian General Manager was appointed who was one Mr P.K. Monnappa - ex I.G of Police (Tamil Nadu, Andhra Pradesh and Karnataka) on a three-year contract.

Around this time (1962), the newly formed Indian government stopped the “Managing Agency” system and so the Peirce Leslie Plantation sector was taken over by one Mr. Jhunjunwala who in turn sold the controlling shares to one Sri Bajoria of Kolkata. Subsequently the properties' control was bought over by M/s Manjushree Plantations Private Limited of Kolkata who still manage the erstwhile O'Valley Company.

Once a group of us with local guides trekked up to the Nilgiri Peak and had a picnic. On the way up we sighted ibex, Malabar squirrels and sambar. From the top of the peak we could see the Arabian Sea. During Pierce Leslie’s days we played a lot of sports. Our club in the Valley had a tennis court and billiards. My Manager Major Keith Vaughan Arbuckle insisted that we participate in UPASI sports (an annual event). He was one of the pioneer planters and a decent type. 

New Hope Estate, 1958

I being a shikaar enthusiast managed to bag leopard, bison, sambar, porcupine, etc. Besides, good fishing at Mukurthi Lake and duck-shooting at Begur. In my good old Ambassador car I would secure my small boat on top. Earlier days had a Ford Prefect (bought for Rs.5,600) that conveniently had a front visor (windshield) which I could open and prop my .22 gun and all I had to do was wait and watch. 

With my wife Vina ,Glenvans Tea Factory,1969

My wife disliked my “shikaar” sprees. Went on strike and turned vegetarian, which she still is! Once at night on our way back from the club there was a magnificent stag. I opened the cars visor and ever so quietly picked up my rifle which was always in the car. Stag was in my sights when my wife furiously pushed the barrel of my gun.

One Sunday, three of us, all bachelors decided we’d have an outing to Mysore (about 130 kilometres away), enjoy a good lunch and watch a movie. We travelled on our bikes. The route to Mysore is we first cross the Mudumalai Sanctuary (in Tamil Nadu) and then Bandipur Reserve(in Karnataka). Well, we had a good time in Mysore and left at around seven pm. Bandipur Sanctuary was smooth sailing. In Mudumalai my friend Madaiah who was ahead with poor headlights thought he saw a bullock-cart ahead, as he went on to overtake, to his dismay realised it was a wild tusker who turned around to attack! He abandoned his bike and ranfor his life. Ravindran who was next too had to get off his bike and flee. I being at the end of the line somehow managed to turn my bike around,and  they both jumped on my bike and we raced back quite a distance. We ended up spending the night at a temple - of course a restless night . Early next morning we headed back to find the motorbikes,one was damaged but luckily started .We raced back to The Valley to be on time for muster (morning roster call). News travelled fast and our Managing Agent (PL) sent us a telegram that read- “Congratulations on escaping from the jaws of death!”

All the factories, coffee pulper houses, bungalows staff quarters, labour lines had water supply by gravitation. Some areas of tea irrigation was also by gravitation only. Some pockets had Blake Hydram.Two of the Bungalows, Suffolk and Guynd had electricity by hydro-power only! Labour and staff worked well with me and I loved them for their loyalty. I admired the energy of the pluckers- mostly women folk moving up and down the hill.

I spent the best part of my life at the ‘O’Valley, no regrets! According to Law of Nature, what should happen will happen, and for everything there is a time to happen! While I was at Lauriston, I realised that my time was up. I returned home to tend to my property in Coorg.

I have since visited the O.V. many a time and still reminisce of the the glory days of my life in the plantations.

Meet the writer: 

Codanda Tata Madappa

Always enthusiastic and in good spirits, my father in law keeps us on our toes! A *nonagenarian who still drives to town to meet his friends or for a game of bridge. He’s always up to something- planting in his backyard or writing in his journal, planning his next outing or play acting. His sense of humour is legendary. He still hides behind a bush or around the corner to ambush his grandsons - who are mostly unfazed - but it gives me a near heart-attack!! An inspiration to us and to his grandchildren. We consider ourselves blessed to have him in our lives. - Radha Madapa 

*Radha tells me he will turn 97 soon, and this makes Mr Madapa our oldest contributor! - Gowri

**Radha wrote for Indian Chai Stories ( read her 'Darjeeling Days' here:  https://teastorytellers.blogspot.com/search/label/Radha%20Madapa and later, her mum-in-law Vina shared her delightful account of life in the O'Valley. You can read it here: https://teastorytellers.blogspot.com/search/label/Vina%20Madappa

Is this your first visit here? Welcome to Indian Chai Stories!
Do you have a chai story of your own to share?  
Send it to me here, please : indianchaistories@gmail.com. 

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! 

Brewed: Heritage, Happiness and Tea

How to make a tea factory metamorphose into a world-class hotel: Nuwara Eliya, Sri Lanka, can show us the way, says Sudipta Bhattacharjee 

There is a magical quality about Nuwara Eliya, a sleepy town in the heart of Sri Lanka at nearly 7,000 feet above sea level. With its swirling mists and lush tea plantations, gushing waterfalls and stately colonial cottages, the “city of light” and “city of the plateau” (roughly translated from Sinhalese) was better known as “Little England” in colonial times.

Founded by Samuel Baker, explorer of the Nile and discoverer of Lake Albert, in 1846, it nestles in the Pidurutalagala range, the tallest mountain on the emerald isle that forms a protective backdrop to this tea county in the Central province.

We drove from Colombo to the picturesque and touristy city of Kandy and proceeded to Nuwara Eliya the next morning. The 85km ride through hilly terrain, myriad hairpin bends (that would put the 36 Ooty-Masinagudi twists and turns to shame) and a tunnel took nearly three hours. A stop at a tea factory ensured sampling of the famous Serendip brew and a conducted tour of the premises. It left us impressed enough to buy golden tips (comprising only the tea buds) before feasting our senses on the gushing Ramboda waterfalls. How I wished tea gardens in India would orchestrate such a drive to popularize our teas.

Chuckling over the Mackwoods sign on the hill, styled in a takeoff from the Hollywood sign in Los Angeles (from across the Griffith Observatory), we passed unending miles of the Mackwoods Labookellie tea estate en route. There are other tea gardens en route, but none as sprawling as Macwoods. Indeed, the drive was a throwback to the tea-bush laden hills of Munnar in Kerala, albeit at a higher altitude (6,850 feet to Munnar's 5,200).

From Nuwara Eliya, we still had another 15km to our destination, the Heritance Tea Factory at Kandapola, most of it along a steep gradient. The old factory of the Hethersett plantation, now converted into this heritage hotel, is today a much-sought-after destination. Other than some wild buffaloes, we were fortunate not to encounter any descending vehicle on that narrow track and reached the verdant grounds with a song in our hearts.

Heritance Tea Factory

Set on a meticulously landscaped garden past manicured tea gardens was the Hethersett factory of yore (the first to fetch the highest price in the world for its silver tips tea), every single one of its 54 rooms booked by tourists from all over the globe. We were accorded a warm traditional welcome: Men in white headgear and sarong put a sandalwood paste tika on our foreheads and offered cardamom, cumin seeds and sugar candy to sample with their welcome drink of spiced tea.

Manager Roshanth Selvaraj accompanied us in an old iron elevator to the fourth floor that boasts of the Flowerdew suite, offering a breathtakingly beautiful view of the landscape. Only when we could tear away our glance from the view, did we notice the crystal bowl with luscious strawberries and a bowl of cream on the table!

 The original factory parts have been retained in green while the reinforcements are in red; the dining hall table décor is neatly blended with the red-and-green colour scheme (see pictures).

Tea factory dining room with old machine parts

The décor retains the carefully preserved vestiges of the old factory. There is a huge roller beam structure above the bar, formerly the factory’s tea packing room. The gadgets for drying green leaves are visible around the restaurant and lounge (the part of the factory where the tea leaves were rolled and dried).

Tea factory bar

The lofts of the factory are now the guest rooms. Outside the premises, an entire train bogey on tracks has been recreated into a fine-dining restaurant. A waiter even manages to use a lever to simulate the chug-chug rhythm of a moving train. In the absence of a platform, hauling oneself into the bogey from ground level is quite an adventure.

With the mist swirling over the pines, and lush green tea-covered hills as far as the eye could see, this destination was a sylvan dream.

But before leaving, just as the magical mist began to envelope the surroundings, I managed to get hold of a keepsake: the Heritance spiced tea recipe!

1 litre of hot water, 2 teaspoons of tea leaf, 2 cardamoms, 1 small piece of cinnamon, 1 sliced lime, 3 mint leaves, 2 teaspoons of vanilla essence, sugar (as per requirement). Boil for five minutes. Strain and serve!

 Editor's note: You may also like to see more Indian Chai Stories from Sri Lanka: -

https://teastorytellers.blogspot.com/2018/03/anecdotes-of-maskeliyaupcot-district.html by Devaka Wickramasuriya

https://teastorytellers.blogspot.com/search/label/Bernard%20VanCuylenberg - six tales - some spine-chilling, by Bernard Van Cuylenberg, and

https://teastorytellers.blogspot.com/2019/01/sojourn-in-sri-lanka.html by Sarita Dasgupta

 

Meet the writer:

Sudipta is a career journalist who joined The Telegraph in Kolkata as a trainee in 1985 and retired at the end of August as Resident Editor (Northeast). She moved to Shillong in 1992 after her husband was transferred to Meghalaya on a three-year posting and continued to report for The Telegraph from there. She travelled to the United States on a Fulbright Research Fellowship in 2004-5 and returned to base thereafter. Her tryst with tea gardens began as a four-year-old to Kakajan in Upper Assam, where her uncle, Sukumar (Dhruba) Sengupta was posted. She and her family visited him in Majuli Tea Estate in Assam in 1970 and 1973 and by herself in December 1975 to the Dooars, when he was posted at Damdim Tea Estate. She has visited gardens in Darjeeling (where a tea tasting session was hosted for her), the Nilgiris and Munnar, Sri Lanka and hopes to share her experiences through this blog, of which she is an avid follower.

Sudipta is now adjunct professor of media science and journalism at Brainware University. 

 More stories by Sudipta here: https://teastorytellers.blogspot.com/search/label/Sudipta%20Bhattacharjee

Is this your first visit here? Welcome to Indian Chai Stories!
Do you have a chai story of your own to share?  
Send it to me here, please : indianchaistories@gmail.com. 

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! 

MBAs, BOP & Acronyms

Hello again, dear friends! Sunday evening and I know we need a mood lifter right now. Well, Rajesh Thomas brings us a few much needed laughs and shares some interesting facts in this enjoyable piece! Happy reading.

by Rajesh Thomas

A thought that echoes through the hallowed corridors of the Head Offices is that what is lacking in the plantation industry is new ideas. But the sage wisdom passed on by successful old timers says that planting is primarily man management with large doses of commonsense, interspersed with attention to detail, something most of us learn the hard way and some of us when it is too late.

In one of the larger planting companies of South India, the Head Office in its infinite wisdom thought a good way to upgrade the talent pool of the mangers on the estates was to induct some of the new-fangled MBAs from the IIMs as assistant managers. Little realizing that these highly qualified MBAs may not be suited to planting and degrees do not mean a thing on the estates unless the people who hold them have an aptitude for the life. Anyway a few of these whiz kids eventually landed up for interviews.

In one of my previous stories I had mentioned about the interview process ( called the extension interview ) in the South Indian tea companies where the candidates are required to spend three or four days staying with the estate managers, wherein they are assessed of their suitability first hand.Please see 'The Interview' http://teastorytellers.blogspot.com/2019/04/the-interview.html and 'The Extension Interview' by my good friend V.R.Srikanth http://teastorytellers.blogspot.com/2019/07/the-extension-interview.html . These stories shed more light on the extension interview.

So, during the extension interview the candidates were taken to the field and the factory by the respective managers or assistant managers and learned a bit about how things work in a tea estate. Coming from the big city life on the estate was very different and fascinating to them. One of the candidates after his first visit to the factory and on his field visit with his manager, where the manager was explaining the field numbers, the young tyro asked him, "Now tell me from which fields you get the BOP grade?", leaving a rather bewildered manager to explain that all grades come from all fields.

This experiment came to nought before it started, when during the final interview, the General Manager (a very senior planter, who had spent his entire career in planting and was a few years short of  retirement) asked one of the candidates whether he had any questions for him. The only question the management prodigy had was, "All this bungalow, servants and clubs are nice but tell me how long will it take for me to sit in your chair?" leaving the venerable senior rather shaken.

Another planting company was looking for additional sources to augment income from estates and it was decided to venture into a bit of horticulture from areas unsuitable for tea cultivation within the gardens. The Bird of Paradise plant was selected to be grown, as it was thought to be hardy and the flower was supposed to command astronomical prices among the florists. Bird of Paradise flowers resemble a brightly colored bird in flight and in some places, they are also called the crane flower for the same reason.

As it was found, mentioning Bird of Paradise plant in correspondences and instructions a little tedious, it was abbreviated to BOP plant.

With work progressing on the planting of BOP plants, the D day arrived when the first lorry load of BOP plants arrived at the estate amidst a lot of excitement. The Tea Maker (equivalent of the Factory Babu in the north) burst into the estate office animatedly and exclaimed “I heard a new clone that produces only BOP grade has arrived and I want to see the plants “. The BOP plants like the MBA graduates turned into a wash out, this time due to marauding herds of Indian Gaur and troops of monkeys.

*BOP (Broken Orange Pekoe ) is a grade of tea, which is commonly used in tea bags and for every day use. The origin of the word "pekoe" is uncertain. One explanation is that it is derived from the transliterated mispronunciation of the Amoy dialect word for a Chinese tea known as "white down/hair". This refers to the down-like white "hairs" on the youngest leaf buds. Another hypothesis is that the term derives from the Chinese báihuā "white flower" and refers to the bud content of pekoe tea. Sir Thomas Lipton, the 19th-century British tea magnate, is widely credited with popularizing, if not inventing, the term "orange pekoe", which seems to have no Chinese precedent, for Western markets. The "orange" in orange pekoe is sometimes mistaken to mean the tea has been flavoured with orange, orange oils, or is otherwise associated with oranges. However, the word "orange" is unrelated to the tea's flavor.] There are two explanations for its meaning, though neither is definitive:

The Dutch House of Orange-Nassau, now the royal family, was already the most respected aristocratic family in the days of the Dutch Republic, and came to control the de facto head of state position of Holland. The Dutch East India Company played a central role in bringing tea to Europe and may have marketed the tea as "orange" to suggest association with the House of Orange.

Colour: The copper colour of a high-quality, oxidized leaf before drying, or the final bright orange colour of the dried pekoes in the finished tea may be related to the name. 

Meet the writer:

 Rajesh Thomas introduces himself:
"A second generation planter. Born and grew up in the planting districts of Southern India. Started my career in the High Ranges and Annamallais Planting Districts for twelve years. Had a stint in Africa for two years. Since 2009 been planting in the Nilgiris.

Read all of Rajesh's stories at this link: https://teastorytellers.blogspot.com/search/label/J.Rajesh%20Thomas

ADD THIS LINK TO YOUR FAVOURITES : https://teastorytellers.blogspot.com/Indian Chai Stories.
Happy reading! Cheers to the spirit of Indian Tea! 

 Is this your first visit here? Welcome to Indian Chai Stories!
Do you have a chai story of your own to share?  
Send it to me here, please : indianchaistories@gmail.com. 

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!

 

Here Comes the Bride!

Hello, friends! Here is another delightful read from Sarita Dasgupta. I'm sure it will brighten up your Friday evening!

by Sarita Dasgupta

Truth be told, I had not wanted to marry a tea planter. Having grown up as a ‘tea’ child, the grass was definitely greener on the other side – the city. I worked for a while as a trainee copywriter at an ad agency in Kolkata and then as a receptionist at a five-star hotel, trying out both to see which I liked better. Of course, the former won hands down, but then I decided to apply for a scholarship to do my Masters in English at Oxford.

Fate intervened in the form of a certain young tea planter, and within three months of our meeting, we were married, and I was a tea memsahab!

Although slipping into the life of a tea memsahab is perhaps much easier for a tea ‘baby’ than a girl from any other background, it is not without its pitfalls!

When I got married, I didn’t know how to cook. This my husband didn’t believe because he had the vague impression that every woman knows how to cook. Fortunately for me, he had a decent Cook, though I heard later that this individual had planned to leave if I threw my weight around too much. In fact, the cake he baked to welcome me had a rather long message iced on it: “Treat your servants well and they will serve you well.” In the act of cutting the cake, I paused to read the rather long and unusual message (for a wedding cake!) iced all around it. Thank goodness I passed muster, and he stayed on!

One Sunday, when the Cook had gone to the weekly market to buy vegetables, some friends landed up and asked us to join them on a picnic. My head reeled! What could I take for the picnic? Somehow, I managed to make a fish curry (the gravy was as thin and runny as water!) and got the Bearer to boil some rice. Both were edible enough, though I did get a speaking look from my husband when he saw the runny gravy. He realized I had spoken the truth when I’d told him that I couldn’t cook.

It was after this incident that I decided I had to learn to cook. I soon realized that every curry the Cook made tasted the same because he used the same spices for every dish! I leafed through the recipe books I had been given as wedding gifts by helpful family and friends, and tried to teach him, and myself, some dishes.

When I suggested that we try something new, he looked down his nose at me loftily, and pronounced that he had cooked for this sahab and that memsahab, none of whom had had any complaints. All the people he named were conveniently retired and gone, leaving me with no way of corroborating his claims, but I made a tactical retreat for the time being.

I renewed my efforts with great diplomacy and eventually got him to try out new dishes, mollifying him by lavishing praise on his efforts. Eventually, he became quite a virtuoso!

After a few years, he contracted TB and had to be excused from work for three months, during which time I made sure he had a glass of milk and an egg every day, and generally looked after him. Once he was cleared to re-join work, the doctor warned him off alcohol, and, for a few years, he heeded that warning.

Alas, when my husband got his billet at Attareekhat Tea Estate, in Mangaldai District, the Cook took up with a woman who brewed and sold bootleg liqour. He started drinking again, as a result of which, not only did his health suffer, but so did his cooking! After quite a few talking-tos and warnings, much as I was fond of the man, I had to give him an ultimatum – he either gave up alcohol or stopped working with us. Unfortunately, he chose alcohol, and so, much to my sadness and regret, we parted ways after fifteen years.

                                        **************************************************

 An ordeal I still remember was at a cocktail party I attended as a very new bride. It was held in honour of one of the company’s Directors who was visiting the estates. He was a fatherly gentleman (I think one of his daughters was my age) who kindly asked me how I was settling in, and how I spent my time. To my horror, my husband’s boss’ wife, who is a very dear friend today, but whom I could have happily murdered that evening, told him I could sing! Obviously, the gentleman asked me to sing a song.

I tried to demur, but I was drowned out by words of encouragement from the others present, so not wanting to be unsporting, I reluctantly agreed. With a battery of eyes turned expectantly on me, and my horrified husband looking like a hunted animal desperately seeking a place to hide in, I felt my throat close up. As the silence grew longer, I managed to gulp, clear my throat, and start singing a Hindi song with trembling lips and voice. Fortunately, my voice settled after the first few bars, so that I could give a creditable performance, but my lips, and limbs too, kept trembling till the very end. The Director said kindly that I had sung a difficult song very well, and there were encouraging smiles and applause from the others present. Ever since that occasion, whenever I was asked to sing, my husband would have that same hunted look!

Bishnauth Gymkhana Club, Bihu Nite 2009

 

I was barely married for three weeks when the big New Year’s Eve bash was held at East Boroi Club. As we were at Halem Tea Estate, where the club is located, I was asked to help with the decorations and other preparations. It was all great fun and I was really looking forward to my first New Year’s Eve with my husband.

The evening was going really well till a rather tipsy but persistent man kept following me around asking for a dance. My brand new husband was livid and looked as if he was ready to bash the chap’s face in, although the person was a senior (though from a different company). Before a contretemps could occur, a senior planter saw what was happening and stepped in, firmly leading the man away. Thanks to him, I managed to avoid the unpleasant experience of getting on the dance floor with a tottering, tipsy partner on my very first New Year’s Eve as a tea memsahab.

We went on to become good friends with the man in question (who was rather nice when sober) and his wife.

                                  *****************************************************

Three months after our wedding, my husband got transferred from Halem to Monabarie Tea Estate. The bungalow we moved into was previously occupied by a bachelor, so I wasn’t very surprised when I was told that there was only grass growing in the kitchen garden. Imagine my puzzlement when, instead of grass, I saw some kind of plant growing all over the place. The gardeners exchanged shifty looks when I asked them what the plant was, and shuffled their feet in discomfort. Concluding that it was some kind of wild plant they couldn’t identify, I told them to uproot all of them and prepare beds for the vegetables I planned to grow.

It was only later, when I got my leg pulled by others on the estate, that I realized what kind of ‘grass’ was growing in my kitchen garden!

When we got married, my husband had just completed three years of service, so he hadn’t been eligible for a car loan till then. His trusty old motorbike didn’t have anything for a pillion rider to hold onto, so obviously I had to hold onto him whenever we went out together. While passing by workers or clerical staff on the estate’s roads, he would hiss at me to remove my arms from around his waist or my hands from his shoulders. I couldn’t understand why he was embarrassed. I was his wife, after all!

On one occasion I was sitting sideways because I was in a sari, so when we were going past a group of workers and he, predictably, told me to remove my hand from his shoulder, I flatly refused, telling him roundly that his wife’s safety should matter more to him than his misplaced sense of propriety!

I’m sure he was very relieved when a couple of months later, his loan application was approved and we became the proud owners of a black Ambassador bought from his Burra Sahab who was retiring from service. The car had an illustrious history, as it had first belonged to the Visiting Agent of the Company!

Perhaps that’s why it was temperamental – having belonged to senior people, it didn’t relish being used by us plebeians! 

                                       *******************************************************

When we got married, my husband had a beautiful dalmatian who had belonged to his father. When my father-in-law passed away, my husband brought him to Assam. This lovely dog was great company for me on my walks within the estate. Most of the workers passing by on their way home from work just glanced at him warily and gave him a wide berth, but one evening, a woman screamed, “Leopard! Leopard!” and started running. The other workers took off too. I thought she had really seen a leopard (not uncommon in the tea estates) and whistled to our dog, who had bounded after the screaming woman, no doubt thinking it was some kind of a game. He came lolloping back to me, and keeping a sharp eye out for the leopard, I started walking home as fast as I could. When I recounted the story to my husband later, he gave a shout of laughter and said that our sweet dalmatian had been mistaken for a leopard because of his spots!

After that, I made it a point to reassure passing workers that he was my dog, and not a leopard before any nervous person among them set up a hue and cry!

*** Towards the end of my first year of marriage, our daughter was born, and I transitioned from Bride to Mother… and that, as the saying goes, is a whole other story!

Meet the writer: Sarita Dasgupta

Sarita enjoying a warm cup of Kawakawa tea in New Zealand. 

Read about it here

 

"As a ‘chai ka baby’ (and grandbaby!) and then a ‘chai ka memsahab’, I sometimes wonder if I have tea running through my veins! 

I have been writing for as long as can remember – not only my reminiscences about life in ‘tea’ but also skits, plays, and short stories. My plays and musicals have been performed by school children in Guwahati, Kolkata and Pune, and my first collection of short stories for children, called Feathered Friends, was published by Amazing Reads (India Book Distributors) in 2016. My Rainbow Reader series of English text books and work books have been selected as the prescribed text for Classes I to IV by the Meghalaya Board of School Education for the 2018-2019 academic session, and I have now started writing another series for the same publisher.

More stories by Sarita here : https://teastorytellers.blogspot.com/search/label/Sarita%20Dasgupta

Is this your first visit here? Welcome to Indian Chai Stories! 
Do you have a chai story of your own to share? Send it to me here, please : indianchaistories@gmail.com. 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. You will find yourself transported to another world! 
 
Happy reading! Cheers to the spirit of Indian Tea!
ADD THIS LINK TO YOUR FAVOURITES : 

https://teastorytellers.blogspot.com/