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Part one of Do you know the Monkey Man - Charlie's Story by Logan Niadin
Charlie Huggins was a little bugger. Always up to something or another. He was the youngest of four children, in a railway family in Asansol, (near Calcutta). He was a gifted lad, everything came easily to little Charlie. As a youngster he was the first in his peer group to ride a bicycle, the first to climb a tree and as he grew up, he excelled in the classroom and on the playfield in all sports. He was a happy youngster, but became moody and a bit nasty as a teenager. His two elder brothers either ignored him or belted him. His Mum was the local midwife so she was always busy, and his Dad who, worked as the store keeper in the ‘railway shops’ was a drunkard. He knew only one way to bring up his children, violence, and now since the others were big enough to fight back, poor Charlie got the brunt of his fathers drunken rages. The only person who paid any attention to Charlie was his sister Lorna. She was four years older than him and practically brought him up. She was the only person who would take the time to try to understand him and maybe talk some sense into him.
As in all Railway colonies across the country Anglo Indians didn’t need any excuse to have a good time. So when the circus came to town it was time to have some fun. In those days ‘ The Gemini Three Ring Circus’ was the ultimate Circus. There were a lot of European performers and also Anglo Indian performers. One of the stars of the show was a man who did ‘The Globe Of Death’ on a ‘Red Indian’ motorcycle, which he used to start by putting the bike in gear, lifting the back wheel off the ground with one hand and jump starting it, by spinning the wheel with the other hand. ‘Awesome‘. (as our web master would say) He was also the ‘Strongman’ who pulled a truck with a rope gripped between his teeth and gave an exhibition of lifting unbelievable weights. (Hold on I haven’t finished) This guy, was also a great singer who played a huge ‘Hawaiian Guitar’ strung around his neck, and sang haunting Hawaiian love songs. He was an Anglo Indian God and his name was Eustace Morrison. (What?? Eust-- What??) Now obviously this was not a suitable name for an Adonis, A Strongman, A Matinee Idol, so he went by the name of ‘Sandow.’ As it happened the Easter Ball at the Asansol railway institute that year coincided with the circus being in town and a lot of the performers came to the ball after their evening show. The main band was from Calcutta and they had the place jumping. They were soon joined by the circus band .(who were Anglo Indians and Goans) The hall was filled with the sound of that fantastic ’war time’ favourite ’In The Mood’ that had everyone ’Jitterbugging’ vigorously. Lorna was sitting with all her friends and (as young ladies of that era would,) they were eying up all the handsome men, while pretending to keep themselves cool with their fans and hankies. ’Gentlemen, choose your partners for a waltz’ said the grand Master of Ceremonies. The men would all move towards the girls intent on being the first to get to the prettiest, while the girls would sit calmly in their seats and pray that a nice handsome man would bow and say ’May I have this dance with you please’. After the initial dignified scramble was over, and the couples were whirling to ’Tulips From Amsterdam’ and ‘Under The Bridges of Paris‘. there was a second wave of men who came along. These were plain ugly. (ha ha) Lorna was still sitting, simply because she had refused two requests to dance. From the time that Eustace had entered the hall every woman had their eyes on him, but he had eyes only for Lorna. She was quietly pleased that Eustace had not as yet asked any other girl to dance. Everything from now on happened in slow motion. Lorna declined another invitation to dance. Eustace watched her and allowed himself a small smile as he caught her glancing at him. He has a drag on his ’Markowich’ cigarette, blows a couple of smoke rings, looks at Lorna with one raised eyebrow. Now she does the ‘small smile thing’ and waves her fan twice. He stubs out his cigarette, hitches up his broad belted trousers and starts to walk across the hall, just like John Wayne, towards Lorna. The dancers part like the red sea and allow him clear passage to her. He bows to her and holds out his hand, she walks into his arms. Bingo!! Three months later he came back to Asansol, married Lorna and took her off to join the circus.
From Boy To Man. Everybody missed Lorna, her elder brothers because she cooked and cleaned for them, her mother also, because now, she would have to do some extra work running the house, and all her friends. But no one missed her more than Charlie. He took it really badly and from being an outgoing reasonably, agreeable young man, (he was sixteen) he withdrew into himself and became morose and moody, losing interest in all the school’s extra-curricular activities, and his studies. Soon his peers started bullying him and he would lash out and get into awful fights. Then he started staying at home. It was one such day that his Dad came home in the afternoon, as he wasn’t feeling too well. He heard a noise in one of the bedrooms, went to investigate and saw Charlie on his bed, fast asleep. He went ballistic. ‘What the bloody hell are you doing at home? Why aren’t you at school? Get up!! Sit up!! I’m talking to you!’ Charlie slowly sat up still half asleep. ‘What’s the problem Dad? I didn’t feel like going to school, Ok? -- ‘You didn’t what? You lazy little shit, I’ll show you didn’t feel’. Two strides and no time for Charlie to even think. Wallop!! Right across Charlie’s face. The force of the blow knocked him back. ‘Get up, get up you little bas***d’. Charlie was dazed for a few seconds. His Dad was upon him in a flash, grabbed him by his hair and pulled him off the bed. In that time Charlie became wide awake and saw the next fisted blow coming. He ducked. ‘Dad that’s enough! Dad! Please!!’ A left hook took him in the rib cage, Charlie was winded, but just managed to duck a whistling right to the head. ‘Dad Stop! Said Charlie, He saw the next blow coming and put up his guard and took it on his shoulder. His Dad stepped back livid. ’Oh! You’re putting up your bloody guard eh?? You want to fight eh?? ‘Come on then‘, and came for him. Charlie took some shots but managed to dodge a lot, but all the time he was getting progressively angry. Suddenly he exploded. He crouched and let fly, he hit his Dad. He hit him again. And again, surprised at how easy it was, how good it felt. Then the rage that had built up over all those years, took control. He brought his right fist from way down and with all his strength he hit his Dad’s chin with an almighty uppercut. The old man dropped like a log. Charlie stood over his fallen father, emotionally, completely spent. He went to the standpipe tap in the back yard and doused his bleeding face and head with water. As his head cleared he knew what he had to do. He went to his bedroom, his dad was still on the ground. He put some clothes in a bag, and began to get very afraid that he had killed his father. Unable to bring himself to check his Dad, he ran out of the house. He didn’t stop running until he was in the rice fields. He sat under a banyan tree, next to a small shrine with an idol of a Hindu Godess with many arms. He began to cry. Charlie must have dropped off, he awoke with a start and for a second, he didn’t know where he was. The sun was just about to set and there was a nip in the air. Slowly realisation of the severity of his actions flooded his mind. ‘Was Dad ok?’. Instinctively he got up and started to walk back towards his home. He tried to think, but his head was throbbing and he became confused. As if to reflect the state of his mind, the sun set, and as it happens everywhere in eastern India, it became dark, instantly, like someone had flicked a light switch (except in those days they had kerosene lanterns). He skirted the slums, that were on the outskirts of town and headed for the marshalling yard, his mind half made up as to what he should do. Being a ‘railway’ child, Charlie knew from listening to grown ups talking, that all the goods bogies for Calcutta, would be shunted onto road (track) 42. That’s where he went. As a youngster he would go to the yard and play games amongst the wagons, so he knew his way around and wasn’t daunted by what he was going to do. He was going to try to hide in one of them and hitch a ride to (‘Mahanagar’ ‘Big City’) ‘Calcutta,’ this he had never done before. He found a wagon loaded with gunny sacks full of some kind of grain, he scooted up over the ones near the door and found a place at the back that was hollowed out, just right for him to lie down. They were still shunting, because every now and then his wagon would jerk with a crash and move a few feet backwards. Then all went quiet, and Charlie with his bag as a pillow settled down for the night.He knew Calcutta reasonably well because the family did their Christmas shopping there every year. He needed money, so he had to get a job. He headed for the docks, bound to be something there. Outside the gates was a group of Anglo Indians and Bengalis standing in a line. ’What’s happening here men?’ He asked a friendly face. ‘We are waiting for the boss to come’ he said. ‘Why? Said Charlie. ‘For work you daft bugger, now get to the back of the line’.
The work was hard, and filthy. He was sent with another AI to scrape out the tar collected at the bottom of the boiler of a tug boat. Two Rupees for a days work. His workmate’s name was Lincoln, who while they were working told him that he could stay the night with his family for four Annas. That evening after a cold water, bucket bath, Lincoln took Charlie to Nizams for a couple of ‘Karti Rolls’ and a cup of strong sweet tea. On the way back they walked down ‘Park Street’ looking at all the posh people going into exotic night clubs. Now and then they heard a ‘Crooner’ singing with the band. ‘C’mon and hear, C’mon and hear, Alexander’s rag time Band’ The mood was electric down the whole street, lit with bright coloured lights and filled with happy sounds. Charlie and Lincoln worked their butts off doing a variety of menial jobs in the docks. The war was over in Europe, but the allies were still fighting the Japanese. ‘Anglo Indians’ from Burma, having trekked with a Ghurkha escort, up the Irrawaddi River, into India at Assam, were now coming into Calcutta with horrific stories of their journey. Rumours Of India being given their ’Independence’ was bubbling under the surface, causing a lot of latent unrest. Then Hiroshima was bombed. Suddenly the war was over and the world slipped nto a different dimension. One day Charlie was told by his British ’Boss’ that he was not needed anymore, but , ’You are a good lad Charlie and a good worker. A friend of mine is here from the tea plantations in Assam and he is looking for good workers. Go to the ’Grand Hotel’ on Chowringee road and ask to see Mr Alfie Dodds, tell him I sent you. That is if you want a job’.
Mr Alfie Dodds was estate manager of ‘Misty Valley Tea Garden’. He liked Charlie and took him on. ‘here’s thirty Rupees Charlie, get yourself a good pair of boots and some warm woollen jumpers and a good Mac’ He said. ‘Take the train to Guwahati. When you get there, take this letter to the address and my man will take you and settle you in at ‘Misty Valley’. Three nights on the train and a bumpy hair raising ride in an open army jeep from Guwahati and Charlie was settling into his quarters, at the aptly named ’Misty Valley’. His room (a low brick building) contained a bed, a wood burner which doubled up as a stove and at the back, a toilet. He stooped to go out of the door and saw that he was on a road, right on top of a hill. Below him, gradually dropping away was a valley with what seemed like a beautifully, patterned green carpet of tea bushes, laid out like a jig saw puzzle. The carpet of tea bushes swept all the way down the valley and up the next hill. Charlie took in the beauty of the sight, and resolved to be happy doing anything he was asked to do. Just to live here and get up to that view every morning, was enough for his soul.
His mood was broken by the sound of a horse coming down the road. ‘Halloo there, You must be Charlie, I’m Joe, everyone calls me Joe Boy. I’m the Scyce, and I look after the ponies. You’re a ‘lumbu’ aren’t you? How tall are you? Five eight, five nine?. About 140 lbs Hmmm?. Charlie smiled and decided he liked Joe Boy. ‘I don’t know what I weigh or how tall I am, Er! Why do you want to know Joe Boy?’ ‘Because I have to match you up with a pony‘. Said Joe. He laughed at the look on Charlie’s face, ‘Ha ha, Everybody has to ride a pony here at ‘Misty’ Charlie, Except Mr Dodds and me. We ride horses. Listen you must be starving, give me your arm and hop on. Grub must be ready at the big house.’ Six months into working at ‘Misty’ and Charlie felt as if he had been there all his life. In Joe Boy he found a Dad he should have had. In Charlie, Joe Boy found a son he never had. He passed on all he knew about horses and life. Charlie became an excellent horseman and absorbed all there was to know about how a successful tea garden was run. For Charlie Huggins from Asansol, Life never seemed better. The following year Charlie felt he had been there long enough to have the confidence to take part in the ‘Holi’ festival. He noticed one of the young women ’Pickers’ Kavita, was standing in a door way and not taking part in all the high jinks, he also noticed how pretty she was. On impulse he grabbed a handful of coloured powder and threw it all over her. For a moment, the smile froze on his face, at her reaction. He thought she was going to scream. She looked down at her sari and came for him, grabbing coloured powder, she chased him until he had to put up his hands, saying, ’Bus, bus Kavita, bus‘, she just wouldn’t stop. In the end he had to grab her and pin her arms to her side. In all the frivolity going on around them nobody noticed how the mood between Charlie and Kavita changed. Their laughter stopped, but they couldn’t take their eyes off each other. Slowly Charlie released her, she stayed in his space, openly looking at him. Embarrassed and not knowing how to cope with how he was feeling, Charlie backed away, saying ’Sorry Kavita. Sorry. Over the next weeks he did his best to avoid her, though he watched her from afar, when he thought she wasn’t looking. One day when he and Joe Boy were riding towards the bottom fields, they passed Kavita and her group. Unable to keep their eyes off each other, Kavita didn’t look where she was going, tripped and went rolling down the hill, her bundle of tea leaves going one way and she the other. Her fall was stopped about ten feet away, as she slammed into the bottom of the bushes in the next field. Charlie was off his horse and by her side in a flash. ’Kavita ,Kavita!, are you ok?. She had her eyes closed, which prompted another, fearful, ‘Kavita?’. A small smile assured him she was ok. He helped her to her feet, looked around and saw Joe Boy looking at him with an amused grin in his face. ‘She ok lad?’ ‘Yes, yes, I think so’. said Charlie. ‘You ok lad‘, said Joe Boy, still with that grin on his face. ‘Yes, I’m fine’. ’You sure?. You look like you’ve seen a bloody ghost,’ ’Shut up Joe Boy, and, what are you grinning at?’. ‘She’s lovely, little Kavita. I’ve know her since she was born‘, pointing, he said, ‘that’s her mother over there. She’s an only child, her dad died when she was a couple of years old’. ‘She seems a bit shaken, take her up to your room and let her rest there awhile. And you come right back.’ then with a laugh as Charlie put Kavita on his pony. ’And no hanky panky, you hear me.’ I hear you Joe Boy. And under his breath, ’bloody old coot’. ’What did you say?’ ’Nothing’ said Charlie. To be continued....
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Another great story!
Written by domestic engineer on 2008-06-03 08:00:47
Hi Ernest! I'm sorry I havent replied to your email or come in here sooner to leave a comment. I was sick as a dog for quite awhile with Pneumonia and Pleurisy of the lungs. Knocked me out bad because of my Asthma.
Anyway, I am back to my old self again and just enjoyed your latest story about Charlie.
Aww that violent life Charlie had to live through touched me deeply. Thank God for Joe Boy! 
Looking forward to more of your wonderful story telling!
Take care,
Charlotte | Interesting !!
Written by arlene on 2008-05-25 04:31:45
Well, after a long time i am back at PW.com and this article is interesting, typical of what used to happen earlier in every family. While i am interested in the continuation (which wd surely focus on Charlie & Kavitha) my thoughts are back with Charlie's Mom, something she must hv accepted ( regards: Charlie's dad) for the sake of her kids - in those days men / woman accepted and continued their marriages/lives - today its all so different. Just a thought I am sharing ... looking forward to the rest of Charlie's story - interesting ... just like the story my Dad / Father in law used to narrate. |
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