<p class="title">Planters who have worked in Tea gardens during the Raj or post-Independent India are for the most part a klondike of interesting tales connected with their career and surroundings. My father-in-law for one was a histrionic raconteur of many an adventure that transpired during his time which was a pretty long span of over three decades.</p>.<p class="title">My memory does not serve up many of the things he narrated, despite his frequent repetition to varying audiences but I do recall vividly his shooting a tiger that had been a menace to the Tea-pickers at Warwick Estate, in the Nilgiris decades ago and the shooting of the Rogue elephant in the vicinity of Vandiperiyar during his planting years in Kerala.</p>.<p class="title">One rather amusing incident relating to his two nephews remains vivid either on account of his frequent reiteration of the episode or my hearing the story from the two characters involved. One was a Brigadier noted for his brilliance in cerebral function and the other, a Planter of repute in a British-owned Tea-garden. It so happened that the Planter had invited his Brigadier cousin over to his Estate and taken him to the then-rather conservative Peermade Club, for a game of Bridge. As always, the Bridge tables were all taken.</p>.<p class="title">It was not without a sense of pride that the Planter introduced his Brigadier cousin to the other members as a noted Bridge player who had won several accolades. This, not surprisingly, in an ambience where snoot and snob prevailed, evoked no reaction! The Brigadier settled comfortably at an all-white table and the game began.</p>.<p class="title">When at a crucial point in the game, the partner’s turn it was to play his card, and he had blundered. The Brigadier let decorum fly to the winds and in far from what one would consider muted tones queried, “Can you give me one good reason, One Good Reason for playing that card?"</p>.<p class="title">There was stunned silence as the partner flummoxed beyond words, crimsoned. Being the last of the line to remain in India, until such time as they had to leave, the affront added insult to injury.</p>.<p class="title">I do not know how the session ended, but for sure never did the Planter cousin ever invite the Brigadier over for a game of Bridge, be it at the Club or at any Bungalow which hosted the game!</p>
<p class="title">Planters who have worked in Tea gardens during the Raj or post-Independent India are for the most part a klondike of interesting tales connected with their career and surroundings. My father-in-law for one was a histrionic raconteur of many an adventure that transpired during his time which was a pretty long span of over three decades.</p>.<p class="title">My memory does not serve up many of the things he narrated, despite his frequent repetition to varying audiences but I do recall vividly his shooting a tiger that had been a menace to the Tea-pickers at Warwick Estate, in the Nilgiris decades ago and the shooting of the Rogue elephant in the vicinity of Vandiperiyar during his planting years in Kerala.</p>.<p class="title">One rather amusing incident relating to his two nephews remains vivid either on account of his frequent reiteration of the episode or my hearing the story from the two characters involved. One was a Brigadier noted for his brilliance in cerebral function and the other, a Planter of repute in a British-owned Tea-garden. It so happened that the Planter had invited his Brigadier cousin over to his Estate and taken him to the then-rather conservative Peermade Club, for a game of Bridge. As always, the Bridge tables were all taken.</p>.<p class="title">It was not without a sense of pride that the Planter introduced his Brigadier cousin to the other members as a noted Bridge player who had won several accolades. This, not surprisingly, in an ambience where snoot and snob prevailed, evoked no reaction! The Brigadier settled comfortably at an all-white table and the game began.</p>.<p class="title">When at a crucial point in the game, the partner’s turn it was to play his card, and he had blundered. The Brigadier let decorum fly to the winds and in far from what one would consider muted tones queried, “Can you give me one good reason, One Good Reason for playing that card?"</p>.<p class="title">There was stunned silence as the partner flummoxed beyond words, crimsoned. Being the last of the line to remain in India, until such time as they had to leave, the affront added insult to injury.</p>.<p class="title">I do not know how the session ended, but for sure never did the Planter cousin ever invite the Brigadier over for a game of Bridge, be it at the Club or at any Bungalow which hosted the game!</p>