She watched horrified as flames rose heavenwards, the fire engulfing the thatched roof. Suresh and Boden scurried with buckets of water, splashing it vehemently to douse the fire. A crowd soon gathered, each trying to make themselves as useful as they could. Her eyes spotted her husband make his way and instinctively headed towards him and gave him a tight hug.
20th January 1993, was when she had become a bride and embarked on an adventure, that even she couldn’t say she had signed up for. Gradually, the weather was becoming warmer and the air felt velvety against her skin. Though she had begun to enjoy the perks of nature and its serenity, she was glad to have a break to visit her parents and her in-laws.
“Beta, have you settled?” asked her father-in-law. “You seem to have tanned a bit,” added her mother-in-law, handing over tall glasses of lassi.
“The place is an open field with beautiful tall trees. Paddy fields dotted with bamboo grooves stretch for miles and miles. The sun beats down on our backs relentlessly. But I have started to feel at home now and even solved the mystery of the missing soaps and toothpaste.” She had the rapt attention of her in-laws, curious to unravel the mysteries of their daughter-in-law as a new bride.
She and her husband Sukhbir had disembarked at NJP station. Sukhbir took his wife to the favourite haunt of the tea ladies. While she rummaged through many paperbacks and novels at North Bengal Book Depot, Sukhbir stood there happily absorbed by the feeling of love that played in his subtle smile and soft gaze.
As they drove into the Gangaram Tea Estate near Bagdogra, Preet was mesmerized by the hectares and hectares of lush green tea bushes sprawling as far as the eye could see. They were to spend a few days here before Sukhbir resumed kaamjaari. It took a minute or two for Preet’s brain to process the happenings of the new surroundings. The bearers in white uniforms and stoic expressions moved wordlessly to and from the old-fashioned mahogany table keeping the platters and the glasses full. The aroma of freshly baked bread hung heavy all around. Brajendra Saklani, Sukhbir’s friend had been an excellent host and Preet was excited to settle down in a place she could call hers, having now had a taste of tea life.
But what met her eyes when they reached Patagora was beyond her imagination. The opulent tea bushes were nowhere to be seen. Instead of majestic bungalows, were thatched cottages sparsely spread about the expanse. Nevertheless, she enjoyed the stillness that was ever evasive in the hustle-bustle of cities. In their cottage, they had help from their cooks Suresh and Boden. Soon, she began savouring the little moments of life.
One fine morning, she sat soaking in the pleasant sun, her long hair swaying gently with the wind, engrossed in the thriller in her hands. All of a sudden, from the corner of her eye, she noticed a hive of activity all around her. Boden rushed towards another cottage which served as the office. “Aagun… Aag!” he called out frantically as he carried a bucket of water towards their kitchen. Preet’s eyes trailed behind him and aghast, she realized that the kitchen was on fire. She rushed towards the kitchen, looking for a pail of water or an extinguisher to help douse the fire. Before she could, a crowd had already gathered and the cottage was soon salvaged. She noticed her husband amongst them and gave him a big hug.
“That’s frightening,” exclaimed her mother-in-law. “What caused the fire?”
“It was quite an experience,” Preet agreed and went on to explain what the cook had told her. During winters, the thatched roof would get bone dry. The cook, who had been preparing butter chicken, gave the pan a toss causing the low thatch ceiling to go up in flames.
At this, they broke out into a chorus of laughter at the unlikely source of the fire but were relieved that everyone was safe and the damage had been minimal. “Oh dear!” her father-in-law added, inquisitive about the new location of his son’s posting.
“Oh, it is near Islampur, a tiny hamlet in Uttar Dinajpur district of North Bengal bordering Bangladesh,” said Preet.
Her father-in-law was taken aback. Being a Major General himself, he realized that there was more to the story than his son had let on. He soon figured out that Patagora, the land where new tea plantations were being planted was by the Zero line of India and Bangladesh. They could be caught in a friendly exchange of fire anytime and people would be none the wiser. Even the BSF camp was based at a safer location from the border.
“Kudos, you are brave to face the harshest plantation life head on,” he reassured Preet, “but tell us about the missing soaps!”
“We have the luxury of electricity only in the evenings. Often, we have visitors at night who enjoy my hospitality.”
Reading the stunned expression on her mother-in-law’s face, she continued, “field rats! They especially relish Pears and Colgate,” she giggled.
The gravity of the situation hit Preet only later in life. Later, she too went on to welcome many new brides, who are often asked, “so how do you like tea?” Some say with milk and sugar while others say they enjoy the calmness in the lap of nature. But for Preet, it had been a sizzling cup of tea.
Glossary:
Beta: My child
Aagun...aag: Fire
Kaamjaari: Daily work supervision