A SPECIAL DAY AT THE MILL

We had to be ready early that Saturday morning.  The car was coming to collect us from our Kolkata address - ‘The Red Brick House’ in a district called Bhowanipore.  We had arrived in Kolkata  4 days earlier and we were slowly getting used to the area and the excitement of a new city.  I had set the alarm clock for way earlier than need be - this day, was a after all the highlight of our trip.

A gentleman from ‘Ludlow Jute Company’ was coming to take us to the place where my grandpa worked for 30 years.  The locality where my granny and my mum joined my grandpa in 1937, 9 years after he first arrived in ‘Chengail’ as the neighbourhood was known.

To be able to set foot on this ground, the place I felt I knew so well, meant so much to me.

Back home in Tayport, in the previous November , I had started trying to find out how I could get permission to visit the mill, which seemed to still be in operation.  My first attempt with an unsolicited e mail to a name on the Senior Management team did not deliver any results.  Many of you will know that Dundee was famed for ‘The Three J’s’.  That being Jute, Jam and Journalism.  And a wonderful lady came to my rescue.  She was owner of a long established Jute and Textiles business in Dundee and had contacts in Calcutta.  Having met Sandra before I contacted her to ask for her help and by luck, she had a direct contact at Ludlow.

With my best pleading, hint of begging and emotionally charged request, my message was sent to a wonderful man by the name of Anand.  Now, at the time I did not know if he was wonderful. Turns out, he was! And turns out he is!

He sought permission from the Managing Director for us to visit, and I was so excited and relieved!  If I could not have visited the Mill, I would have missed out the most significant connection to Jack’s Jute Life.

Operation Ludlow was on!

The journey to the Mill was by road and took us well out of main Kolkata, over past the Howrah district into Chengail.  I had brought some old photographs of the Mill days and a lovely red book which Grandpa had been given as a moment of his life at Chengail, when he left.  I did not know if Anand would be remotely interested in all this old family stuff.  The book contained inserts of a monthly magazine which had been produced as part of the Ludlow Life during grandpa’s time there.  To my delight Anand found it very interesting, and this made such a difference to our day.

Turning off the main road, the car took us into what essentially was a village.  The village sat by a narrow river, and this was the area of Chengail.  Tiny houses lined the road, although it really was more of a track than a proper road.  Pink houses, lime green houses, garish purple houses with tiny yards, housing chickens, children, bicycles and dogs. In the distance a plume of smoke signalled that we were coming closer to the mill.

Two huge pale blue gates stood in front of us, with the familiar logo of ‘Ludlow Jute Company’ painted on them.

I pinched myself in disbelief, and tears in my eyes. And a lump in my throat. This was it!!!!

Our first visit on the compound was to the offices of the Mill and Anand told us they had remained unchanged, same furniture, same fittings as back in grandpa’s time.  A couple of offices had been refurbished but much of the furniture had been kept. I felt a sense of satisfaction that Ludlow was not all ‘in with the new and out with the old’.  That they appreciated the essence of the beginnings of the Ludlow Life.

I had shown Anand a few photographs of my mum in the mill compound with her Ayah, and photos of grandpa taken on a set of stone stairs.  Anand told us he knew exactly where those stairs were and that was our next stop.  I stood on the spot where all those years ago they had stood.  I was so happy - exactly where they had been during their happy life. Standing here, with the River behind us, the garden of flowers, the men in dhotis gently cycling by, the ladies gliding by in their saris, ever elegant, I realised that despite the hardships of being away from ‘home’ Kate and Jack and Kathleen had a lovely place to live - their Calcutta home. From the stories I heard as a child, I always felt life here was a happy one for them, and now, I could really feel that here.

Next stop was to the small jetty, where during those halcyon days, a small launch boat would dock and transport the Mill managers across to the other side of the Hooghly to Pujali Ghat.  That was the only way to get to Kolkata town in those days. The waiting area at the ghat or Ferry port had a small canopy,   and I could imagine Granny and Grandpa sheltering from the hot sun under that canopy, or even under the shade of tall tall trees which skirted the River bank.   And here I stood, exactly where they had journeyed to town, on their way to church on a Sunday, or up to the Calcutta swimming club, or to ‘Firpo’s’ for tiffin, or to Mullick and sons the Tailors where grandpa spoke of being fitted for new trousers or in the latter years for a dinner suit for formal days back in Scotland post retirement.

I lingered at this spot, the jetty now broken down and unused since road transport was now the norm.  I remember granny was always anxious on the boat.  Fearful of capsize, and I got that same feeling a few weeks later when we recreated the journey ourselves - taking a car from Calcutta town to Pujali Ghat, where we waited for the ferry to arrive whichnwould take us across to Chengail.  The Ferry was actually a very small wooden boat, which arrived at the shore line of Pujali after around half an hour.   As I saw men, women, motor bikes easily ‘walk the plank’ to disembark, I knew how granny must have felt - although in those days I am not sure they would have overloaded the boat in this way!!  It all looked a little precarious.  I gingerly boarded the boat along with around 15 other people, all curious as to why a foreigner was taking this very local trip.  After they all had photos taken with us, I concentrated on the short journey across the Hooghly and realised it was taking us right to the banks which trimmed the Ludlow Compound - the exact route they had taken all those years back. I was once again, not walking in their footsteps, but sailing through their years.

I imagined Grandpa walking from their bungalow, 2B on to the jetty, which was only a few minutes of a stroll.  The bungalow was two storied, and was occupied now, kindly we were allowed to go inside.  The rooms were so spacious and an unusual hexagon shape.  Looking at the photographs I had with me of granny sitting in an armchair in the bungalow, one of mum sitting by her piano, I could not really make out which room was which.  But here we were - the walls of this house knew the goings on of that Scottish family who had inhabited this building and made it home over 60 years ago and longer.

Celebrations and social events were held in the ‘Chengail Club’, which I always had assumed was somewhere outside the Mill compound, but no, it was a single story building at the back of the row of bungalows.  Once inside, my mind took me to the happy times spent here, as grandpa has written about in his diaries. Farewell dinners were held here, for those from overseas who had spent some years at Chengail were ready to go back home. Hogmanay celebrations, weekend socials, evenings bringing together those living on the compound, miles away from their families, making happy memories.  I will be writing lots more about these such festivities as I expand my story of grandpa’s life.

To our surprise, we were then taken for lunch to ‘The Guest House’ which was a beautiful, tasteful house, recently refurbished to host Seniors of the company and their guests.  I then remembered that at one stage, granny had been asked to take on the ‘overseeing’ of this guest house, a task I am sure would have meant that those visiting would have the most pristine of stays and the most delicious foods.

After lunch, we strolled the path that grandpa cycled or walked upon so many times, to see the actual Mill.  I was glad, so glad that the mill is still in full operation - since 1921!  And the actual building is the exact dame one where grandpa worked.  The Jute Operation was in full swing - it was fascinating seeing the huge pieces of machinery processing, combing, streaming, cleaning the jute to be ready for starting life as a modern day, environmentally friendly item.  No plastic bags, no plastic carpet backing, no plastic or nylon ropes or ties - just has so many uses, and despite a down turn during the hey day of plastic, I really hope that in this ‘Age of recycling’ Jute comes well and truly to the forefront of a kinder modern world. Staff thought out the mill gave warm smiles, and I considered how this Mill gave employment to hundreds of people from the neighbouring towns and villages, and had done for all these years. It was hot inside the Mill, and this was not peak summer. Hard work for all and how we do not realise the work that goes into items or products we use in everyday life. Exploring the length of the mill we then moved to the ground floor and out side into the warm sunshine - the place outside of the mill was a hive of activity, with workers coming and going on foot or by cycle. We welcomed another walk along the paths surrounding the mill to a newer section where the company are expanding into Life products - bags, clothing, table mats. We saw how the design was created on the front of the bags, each worker using a palate to create a part of the design, with the specific colour, and all done in a precise order - what started with perhaps one small dot on the jute fabric eventually became a picture or full design or company logo. All done by hand.

During this day at the mill, I kept taking out the selection of photographs I had brought and looking at grandpa, or granny or mum pictured through out the compound - to be there, there where they had been, was a dream come true.  What would they think?? I think my mum would say that if anyone was going to make this happen it would be me.

I do not know how long Anand thought he would have to host us at the mill -but we were there all day, and not once did I see him look at his watch!! ~Maybe I will ask him for s little quote of how he felt that day!  Bundles of thanks!

In the mean time - this little piece is being signed off with loving memories of `Kate and Jack and Kathleen. More to come.