Tragic Magic

Chapter 8

Chapter 8

This was followed by a return to Firpo's for some refreshments, a little more talk, reminiscences and finally the journey home.

Christmas was heralded by the arrival of the Viceroy. Guarding the gates of Belvedere were seen once more the picturesque figures on horseback of the Bengal Lancers.

Christmas in Bengal was something very special, and something in the air brought a feeling of expectation, of change into our everyday existence.

Often during this time my thoughts would travel far back to the Arctic land of snows and frosts, to those distant years of my childhood. I would see again a troika rushing through the gates, hear the jingling of bells, sit once more at a table surrounded by the faces of those so dear and long since vanished, stand again beside a Christmas tree that reached up to the ceiling and which I imagined was a part of heaven to where little children sometimes went.

How unpredictable was fate! Little did I dream then that I would one day see a Christmas so diverse - a garden blooming in the warmth of a tropical sun, stately palms, trees spangled with exotic blossoms, a swift-flowing river not fettered by frosts and snows.

Yet the spirit of Christmas was very much alive not only among the Europeans but the Indians as well. I recall how the other memsahibs and I would share a taxi and set off to Calcutta for our Christmas shopping. On arrival in Lindsay Street we would scatter on our errands inside the famous New Market' (Sir Stuart Hogg Market). What an amazing place that was with all the sections, each one offering their own particular line of goods. There was the 'Curio Shop' where one could find a great variety of oriental treas ures, the shoemakers, silversmiths, toyshops, bookshops, grocers, fruiterers and, in the far background, the stalls of butchers and fishmongers, live chickens, guinea-fowls and pigeons in cages - a part I avoided.

Very tempting were the shops displaying dress materials. The shopkeepers standing beside the entrance would call out to the passing memsahib, 'Come inside, memsahib, come inside. I have something very good just out from home. You don't have to pay today. Please come to look. Sometimes you were tempted, went inside and sometimes you paid later The shopkeepers knew us and knew we could be trusted.

As Christmas drew nearer a frenzied activity started. There could be seen the Indian businessmen buying gifts for their clients ranging from simple baskets of fruit and nuts to silver and jewellery, the European memsahib hurrying from one alley to another with the patient coolie following from shop to shop carrying the purchases in his basket. Everybody rushing somewhere, something in the atmosphere, the smell of the sweet Darjeeling oranges and spices all combining to symbolize the enchantment of Christmas.

With the exhausting shopping in the market over, there was a pleasant break for lunch in Firpo's, followed by more shopping in Whiteway & Laidlaw or Hall & Anderson in Park Street, and finally a visit to Flury & Trinka, likewise in Park Street, for a cup of tea and cakes prior to embarking on the long journey home.

I still remember with pleasure our Christmas expeditions into town and the drive back in the soft darkness through the country road and the bazaars, the twinkling lights, the smell of smoke, the crossing of the river, the cool wind blowing in our faces.

As Christmas drew nearer there was the baksheesh. During the festive season baksheesh was a recognized institution. The is a giving man and in most cases the baksheesh was offered as a friendly gesture. They were offered in various degrees according to the position, but everyone received them, no-one was excluded as far as I believe. The arrival of the dolly (basket) containing fruit and other gifts was a welcome feature of the festive season. The Christmas post from home - cards, letters and gifts - was a great joy. I remember receiving from my mother an enormous Christmas pudding which I later produced as a great treat at a dinner party. Christmas Day, being a working day, was spent quietly. In the evening we invited the married couples for drinks and short eats, but there were no special celebrations. So passed my first Christmas of 1937.

The New Year celebrations were always more important than Christmas to the Scots and although all the mills were working on New Year's Day, the assistants were not compelled to turn out and the Indian workers ensured there was no loss of production, as they were all in favour of the sahibs celebrating their annual holiday.

On Old Year's Night we were again in Firpo's, along with George and Jimmy, to join two married couples for a dinner party. There was a third bachelor in our group - Jimmy Mechan, a young man who, like Ron, was a kerani sahib in our firm. Firpo's wore a festive air with every table booked ahead. That evening Mr Firpo excelled himself by presenting every lady with a large, beautiful doll. My doll wore a handsome gown of silk and lace in Louis XIV style. One of the ladies informed me that these dolls were often used as a decorative finish on a bed. I was delighted with my gift. An aura of gaiety pervaded the restaurant which increased as the night wore on. The dance floor was crowded with couples dancing to the music of an orchestra playing the latest as well as old-fashioned tunes.

I remember waltzing with Jimmy Mechan. Our steps seemed to complement each other. We danced with ease and pleasure to the haunting strains of a Viennese waltz, but as we continued dancing, spellbound by the magic of the melody, the music suddenly ceased. It was midnight and the start of another year.

At the end of the celebrations while on our way home we called on some friends in Calcutta. We had been travelling in George's car and on returning to it found, to our dismay, it had been broken into. My lovely doll as well as all George's belongings were stolen. Nothing was ever found. Soon after the start of 1938 George departed for his home

leave in Scotland. Before he left he spent the weekend with us and brought his Scotch terrier, Pik, to be kept by us for the duration of his leave. Throughout my life I have been fond of all animals, especially dogs. A dog's intelligence, complete honesty and selfless devotion places him above all the others - even the horse - in the animal kingdom. The dog will never betray you, but you can betray it if circumstances force you to do so and later feel the bitter taste of guilt. I was happy to have Pik, especially so as he brought back memories of another Scotch terrier, once brought to Archangel by my father from Scotland. Scottie, renamed Scotka, which came easier to the Russian tongue, became a loved member of the family and a treasured part of my childhood. Unusually intelligent he was also unique, being the only Scotch terrier in town. In the years to come, however, and even after his death his progeny were seen running around in our district - little, bushy-tailed, husky mongrels with the distinctive features of a Scotch terrier.

Now here was Pik. George prior to leaving for home didn't have time to have Pik inoculated against the deadly rabies. This had to be done and particularly so as around Lawrence, rather isolated and so near the jungle, rabid jackals were known to prowl at times close to the com pound. Everyone still remembered the terrible experi ence they had had to undergo some eighteen months previously.