Matheran continued…

Along the rear boundary of Chowk Hall, there was a clear oval space about 5 acres in size which was used, among other things, as a racecourse. The races took place on Saturday and Sunday evenings when the season was in full swing. The track was very rough – even having smooth rocks projecting in places! The racing was by the ponies ridden mostly by their owners, though some braver visitors also joined the fun. The hill ponies were sure-footed and the speed was not very high – so there were no serious casualties.

Off and on, we from the Chowk Hall group rode around the course in the morning and, from time to time, raced each other. One morning, Arvind’s pony slipped on a smooth outcropping rock and Arvind came a cropper, striking his forehead on a hard surface. He got a cut above his eye and was knocked out! One of us ran to the house and a servant was rushed to the small hospital near the railway station. The distance was about 2 km and it took the doctor an hour to reach us. By the time the doctor arrived, Arvind had been taken into the house and had recovered consciousness. The doctor stitched up the wound and cautioned Arvind that he should rest as he had a minor concussion.

One of the things Matheran was well known for was the shoemakers. A whole lot of “Mochis” from the villages, or even Bombay, came to Matheran during the season. Many of them were expert at hand stitching and the shoes were really very good in shape and strength. The leather used was “Indian cured” for the cheaper types or in the English style for the best variety. The Mochi made you place your foot on a piece of paper, usually a brown sheet torn from a package. He then measured the foot and traced the shape. In about two days the shoe was ready and delivered to your house. If any adjustments were needed, he either did it on the spot or returned with the changes the next day. The cost was very reasonable and worked out to be much lower than the cost charged in the shops in Bombay. In those days, it was possible to get shoes made to order in most of the shoe shops in the city and the cost was roughly equivalent to “ready made”. It is no longer so now. In fact, “made to order” shoes are not easily available now as the Mochies are no longer able to compete with the shoe factories such as Bata, Cawnpore Leather, etc….

One of the many attractions of Matheran was the delicious honey from the bees feeding on the Jamun tree flowers. This tree is a tall tree, about 30 ft. average height, with a hard, dark coloured wood. The fruit are of the berry type, very juicy and produce a deep mauve juice (which stains very easily). The honey produced from these flowers had a distinct Jamun flavour and also maintained the mauve colour. The honey-gatherers would canvass the houses so one could get fresh honey at the door step. The collection frm the trees was done by men but the vendors were usually women.

As the main attraction for the visitors was enjoying the forest walks, many found that a walking stick was helpful when scrambling up the steep paths. The local people were adept at fashioning very attractive walking sticks from the hard local woods (including Jamun). One could get a round-knobbed or straight L-shape hand grip. We also made our own – though not so finished in looks! the L-shaped types were used by us to play hockey using some of the round hard, golf ball sized fruit found on the local trees.

The forest was full of red-faced monkeys! These were cheeky sorts, a little smaller in size than the black-faced langur which lived in the plains. It was a problem for us to leave any food on the back verandah of Chowk Hall where we had a table for eating breakfast. There was a tree with a branch about 5 feet away and the monkeys used to hang about and make faces at us whilst we were eating! If we left the table with any food on it, quick as a flash, a monkey would jump over and snatch it away. Of course, bananas were the greatest attraction!

As mentioned earlier, father and the family (including Mona) paid a visit to Matheran in November. One morning, we had finished breakfast on the back verandah and had left the table momentarily with a bunch of bananas on a plate. As we turned our backs, a monkey leaped down and snatched a couple of them. He was back on the tree and munching away before we could do anything. There he sat, peeling the skin and stuffing his mouth so that both cheeks bulged! Another monkey nearby had snatched the other banana and was also indulging. On our making more fuss and shaking a stick at them, the monkeys jumped down from the tree and moved off a little. Mona ran down the steps and shouted at them. The male leader of the monkey pack sat up with a grimace and moved toward her threateningly. Mona stood still and shouted “go away” at the male but he showed no fear and continued to snarl and move toward her. I was watching this drama from the steps and felt that I had better intervene before Mona was scratched or bitten. I walked toward the monkey while waving and yelling “shoo”. As soon as the monkey saw a man (ie. me), he turned round and loped off with his harem of 5 females scurrying behind him. Apparently, the monkey males are contemptuous of females: human or monkey!

Matheran, being a part of the Western Ghats, gets a lot of rain (over 100 inches in 3.5 months) and wind. Chowk Hall and most other houses had corrugated sheet iron roofing. Also, the rooms were protected by placing woven bamboo strip matting fixed along the railings of the verandah so that the water would not drive onto the verandah floor and beat against the inner walls. After the monsoon was over, the matting was removed but almost half of it got ruined every year. The sheet iron roof also required painting approximately at 3 year intervals. The masonry of the walls had to have some repairs almost every year as well. All in all, the maintenance of the building was fairly costly. However, in relation to the fun and pleasure of the visits and to the income of the owners at the time, the matter was not overly significant.

Father died in 1962 and his estate was divided amongst the surviving two sons and two daughters. My brother Habib had died while flying his Spitfire during the war (1943). Father’s second wife, Munira, was not included as per the agreement when he married her since she had her own property in Bihar and she did not want that touched except by her own children. Incidentally, Munira was a childhood flame of father’s – she had lost her husband, a famous Bihar politician and staunch follower of Gandhi.

By the early 1960’s, I was serving in the Railways in Eastern India (ie. on the other side of the country) and my brother Faiz had migrated to London. My sisters, Raffoo and Attoo, used to visit Matheran along with my father’s younger sister, Aunt Hanifa. However, I found that the visits were getting less and less as Kihim had become easily approachable with the Patalganga Bridge and a good road to Alibag. The cost of upkeep was also getting high even though we had been renting out the building with the proviso that one room would be available for a month each year. The cost soon overtook the rent and Faiz and the two sisters were not willing to spend the extra amount needed. I had to arrange “official” visits to Bombay to find the time to visit Chowk Hall for a weekend once in a couple of years. I had kept on the agent who had been looking after the property during father’s time (D’Souza, if I remember correctly). I told him to get me a buyer and, after a couple of years, he arranged with a Convent to buy Chowk Hall for a rest home and small chapel for the Sisters. I cannot remember the amount we got for it – probably about 40,000 rupees in the early 1970’s. As the property was 3 miles from the bazaar, and the modern visitors wanted to be in the thick of noise and loud music, the value of the property was not considered as high as one would have hoped. My Aunt Hanifa was very sad about the property going out of the family but she also understood the difficulty of maintaing the place given the rising costs and the aging of the building…

Matheran and “The Mansion” – 1936

The Great Indian Peninsular (“GIP”) Railway went north from Victoria Terminus near the southern base of Bombay island up to the Junction Station of Kalyan (54km). Most of the length of this section had 2 up and 2 down lines as there was considerable commuter traffic. At Kalyan, one double line section continued North-East to Itarsi Junction for Delhi and East to Calcutta, whilst the other turned South toward Madras via Poona. Both the sections had to negotiate steep slopes to climb up to the Deccan Plateau which was about 2000 feet above sea level. As described in my last entry, the climb to Poona was steeper along the Bhor Ghats. About 38 miles (60km) from Kalyan on the Poona main line, there is a station (Neral Junction) from which a Narrow Gauge (1 1/2 feet) line creeps up the steep slope of the eastern face of the mountainous outcrop called Matheran. Matheran has almost vertical slopes on three sides. The top is a plateau about 7 miles running North-South and about 3 miles across. The water supply is from a natural lake which is filled from monsoon rains. The surface is very well wooded, with large Jamun trees and other hardy shrubs such as the Karwanda berry. The temperature during the hot weather is very comfortable and dry but during the monsoon it gets very heavy rain (up to 100 inches).

The little “steam tramway”, as it was called, had a very interesting type of engine designed in Germany. The curves on the track were very sharp so the body of the locomotive was able to slide sideways along the driving axle to cope. The speed was only about 5 miles per hour, with the total distance being about 15 miles. As a result, the total journey took about 4 hours, including a 20 minute stop midway to fill the engine with water. There was a little pony track, about 7 miles long, also running from Neral but this was mainly used by the regular visitors. Tourists preferred the “toy train” as there were a number of “loops” with a tunnel and one could jump off the train at the start of a loop and jump back on at the end (after it emerged from the tunnel). This train was owned by a Muslim businessman named Chinoy, as far as I recollect. Now, it is part of the Central Railway and the old steam locos have been replaced by diesel versions. These are not at all picturesque and the speed remains the same as the curves are still as sharp!

Whilst I was at Patalganga Bridge, father paid a visit to our “Mansion”, “Chowk Hall”, in Matheran with Mona, the girls and mother. November is an ideal time for the place as everything is still green from the monsoon. There are many small streams and waterfalls, some of which drop from a height of 200-300 feet.

I think a note about Chowk Hall is required. My Grandfather, Badruddin, had willed that, of the living sons at his death, the eldest (Mohsin), followed by Husain, Faiz, Salman (father) and Hatim, would inherit the house properties. As per the Islamic Law of Inheritance, Grandfather’s estate had to be divided in fixed proportions betwen the living wife, sons and daughters. As it happened that father and Hatim were not living in Bombay the three properties situated there were taken over by the three older sons (by consent and due valuation). Mohsin had the Somerset Cottage on the top of the ridge of Malabar Hill. Faiz got the Somerset Lodge, a three storey building on the slope facing the sea, while Husain got a three shorey house on the slope facing the other side (opposite the gateway to the long drive of Government House). The main Somerset House was sold – it was large enough to be turned into a college building at the Sophia College for Girls! All these in the prestigious locality of Malabar Hill! Father was quite happy to get the “Mansion” in Matheran while Hatim received cash and securities (as he was living in Karachi).

Chowk Hall is a single floor building but has a basement below the living rooms. As a result, there are two sets of curved staircases rising to the floor – which is about 12 feet above the ground. The house, thus, has a central large room used as a dining and general living room, whilst the two wings each have two large rooms used as bedrooms, with attached bathrooms and dressing rooms. A verandah ran all the way in front with all rooms opening onto it. Similarly, a narrower verandah ran at the back, with the same rooms plus the bathrooms opening up to it as well. The rear verandah was used by sweepers to come and remove pots, clean the place and fill the water drums for washing and bathing. The baths were taken with the water poured over ones body using a mug from a bucket of cold or warm water! The floor had a 6-inch high wall to make an enclosure to contain the spilled water and drain it away. Some people preferred to bathe sitting on a stool. Incidentally, even with piped water, many people seem to still prefer to bathe using this method rather than with a shower. The feel of the hot water sloshing over the body in large dollops, with intervals of cool air, gives an exhilarating feeling!

The large front verandah had a 10 foot wide settee, a “takht”, with a thick cotton mattress raised about 2 feet above the floor. We used this to loll about on, read or play cards. Large, sausage-shaped pillows were placed against the railing of the verandah for extra comfort!

The normal routine for the party, which usually had at least 10 persons consisting of adults and children, parents, cousins, aunts, etc…was to make a quick breakfast early, say 7 am, then pick up the picnic stuff readied by the servants (cold meat sandwiches, coffee in thermoses, fresh lime juice in bottles). We would sling the supplies over our shoulders and head off to some place a few miles away. This was usually somewhere on the edge of the mountain with a good view. It often happened that some of these places were of our own choosing and had no paths – so it meant a lot of scrambling down steep slopes, sometimes on all fours! Good fun!

The other morning activity was riding on horse-back. During the “season”, owners of ponies from the villages on the plains brought their ponies up to the visitors to hire. These were quite good size and were used to the hill terrain. They were very sure-footed over the uneven and rocky paths but had iron mouths often requiring a strong pull on the snaffle!

There were four of us on one occasion: my brother Habib, Haneef (son of my mother’s sister Ateka), Arvind Nanavati (son of a very close friend of the family) and myself. As I was the most competent of the quartet, I chose rather a large pony and we went off for a 2 hour ride. There were no carriages of any sort allowed on the roads, except hand-pulled rickshaws, so one had only to avoid running into the pedestrians enjoying their walks. The Municipal regulations only allowed a slow canter and the main roads were quite broad. The jungle trains were steep and rocky so only walking speed was possible. At one point, as we were riding homeward, there was a fairly steep uphill road. My horse had the habit of taking the bit between his teeth and galloping up the slope! I tried my best to slow him down but the brute could not be controlled and, to my horror, I saw a group of people strolling along and spread across the entire road. I shouted a desperate warning and, fortunately, they heard the clatter of hooves and scuttled out of the way just in time. They may have realized that the horse was out of control as they did not swear too much! Once on top of the slope, the horse settled down completely. I think he must have felt the rising road was a challenge – as did I!

The English Crowd and Apprenticing

True to his word, Henry produced Mona to a large number of friends (and their wives) in high Government positions. She had a very busy time “going the rounds” as Bombay, being the capital of the Bombay Presidency, there were a large concentration of British officers, including the military “Big Hats”.

Besides the social tea parties and club meetings for tennis and gossip, at which Mona used to fit in very well as she had the knack of getting on with both young and old, she also got a fair amount of riding with the younger Police and Army officers. The fact that she was braving the “trials and tribulations” of marrying a foreigner (and an Indian, at that!) plus that she had the latest on life in London, made her a much desired guest! The Police barracks were in Byculla, half-way to Bandra. Byculla also contained the bungalows for the British government community as well as the Byculla Club (a residential club for whites only). A number of junior British officers, either bachelors or those with their wives still in the UK, stayed at the club. It was only about 3 miles form the Secretariat -and taxis were cheap. The zoo was also nearby. At that time, the Bombay zoo was considered to be very well maintained and the grounds had a very nice park. One of my cousins, a graduate in Zoology, was the manager of the place and Mona had great fun playing with the young tiger cubs. Unfortunately, due to general indifference, the place has gone very downhill.

Mona had a very good flair for languages. She was fluent in French, spoke a little Spanish and German, and was good at her “native language” (Gaelic)! As soon as she got settled in Bombay, she got hold of a munshi (teacher) and, armed with the Army Urdu teaching primer (“The Munshi”), she tackled Urdu. Orally, it is a register of Hindustani (Hindi being the other one) but it is written using Persian-Arabic script. As she was considering becoming a Muslim, she also learnt to read the Koran in Arabic! She was, at the time, a member of the Church of Scotland, the formalities of which have some similarities to Islam. For instance, prayers in a mosque or any place, can be led by any “elder” in Islam. Similarly, prayers in a “Kirk” can be conducted by any lay preacher.

On the subject of Mona’s idea of embracing Islam, I have to make it clear that at no time had I suggested this to her. As a matter of fact, she did become a Muslim and could declaim the fundamental sentence: “Laa Ilahi Illallah, Mohammedan Rasul-illah” (There is one God, and Mohammed is his Prophet). Many years later, I think it was in Calcutta, she told me that she was not very comfortable being a Muslim, as she could feel its depth. I told her that she was free to change to any other religion she fancied as it would make no difference to me since I was was not a strict practicing Muslim anyway. So, Mona then became a member of the Church of England as she said that she loved the music and singing – which was lacking in the Church of Scotland.

Gammons was an engineering firm started and owned by a person who started out working in the Bombay Public Works Department. He was a good entrepreneur and was soon making a success of his business. One of his innovations was to introduce reinforced concrete in a big way for structural works. When I had arrived in Bombay and was looking around for a job, Gammons had a contract for bridge works on roads under Father’s control. He inquired from Gammons whether there was a chance for me to get a job with them. Gammons regretted that things were very tight and they could not accommodate me. However, if I wanted experience and a certificate later, they would let me work in their Head Office in Bombay on designs.

I spent a couple of months preparing designs and drawings for a variety of bridges. One very interesting design was an arch bridge using steel rods as hangers for the road deck. These descended from a reinforced concrete arch but the rods were at right angles to the arch – that is, they were “radial” instead of the conventional vertical hangers. This made the stresses in the arch much lower with the result that it was a comparatively lighter and cheaper. The problem was that the calculations were very complex and took many hours to complete. In these days, with computers, it would probably take a matter of minutes! The design was a patent of a Swedish firm (Christiania & Nielson) and Gammons had the sole rights in India. Fortunately, I only had to prepare the drawings after the calculations had been done by others!

After I had got a good idea of the operations of the office and as I was not getting any salary, I told the firm that I would like to go to a site where work was going on. As it happened, a bridge using the design of “inclined hangers” was being made on a river near Patalganga Town on the Highway going south from Bombay. It was to replace an “Irish Bridge” (also called a causeway) on the tidal river. There was an Inspection Bungalow on the southern bank and Father arranged for me to stay there. The chowkidar (caretaker) was a fair cook and attended to my needs.

I was dropped there by Father and Mona and was able to return to Bandra every 10 days or so as the distance was only about 80 miles.

The reinforced concrete wells for the piers were founded on the rock bed of the tidal river. The tidal waters had a rise and fall of 10 to 15 feet daily (depending upon the season) so the bottom of the wells were sealed by pumping “colloidal” cement groute into the bottom layers of the 3/4 to 1 inch size crushed stone filling. This was pumped in when the water had filled the well at high tide and, on the ebb, the pressure of the standing water pushed the concrete mortar firmly in, sealing the bottom. The colloidal cement was a new and very interesting material as the cement did not get diluted after being made into a colloid solution – as a result, the setting properties were not spoilt.

I returned to Bombay finally by the end of November after getting a very interesting experience in new techniques and other practical elements of bridge building. Later, in my professional career, I was very happy when I was able to tackle bridge works. Fortunately, I was able to get involved with these quite often!

Indian Friends and Bombay Racing

Father had a large circle of friends, both English and Indian, in Bombay and Mona got quite friendly with most of them.

One one occasion, she was driving an English lady friend of the family near Dhobi Talao, a 5 road junction downtown near St. Xavier’s High School. It was the end of the monsoon, but the roads were wet, greasy and quite tricky when driving over the tram lines on the road. The wheels of the little Morris car just about fitted the tram lines and when Mona tried to turn to the left from the road centre to avoid a tram, she found the wheels locked! Fortunately, the tram was able to stop just a few feet away. In the middle of the panic, the engine had also stalled and Mona was feeling very shaken.

A number of people had gathered around and the tram driver had also got down to assist. Mona, however, heard a very cultured voice near by: “Can I be of assistance, Madam?”. Mona turned and noticed that an elderly slim, smartly dressed, quite fair complexioned gentleman was talking to her. She explained her predicament and said that she would be glad for any help. The person called to his chauffeur to take charge of the car and drive it to the kerb. He then introduced himself as “Byramji” and asked about Mona. When she said she was a guest of Mr. Tyabji at Bandra, he replied that he was an old friend of the family! He offered to drive the ladies in his car, whilst the chauffeur would take charge of Mona’s car and drive it home. Mona was quite happy at this offer and the two ladies had a very good day – with an excellent lunch thrown in!

Byramji, a Parsi, was apparently very well off, his car an expensive American-type – a Buick, I think. He came into the house and, after a short visit, asked Mona if she was interested in horse racing. When Mona told him that she definitely was very much so, he invited her to go with him to the Mahalaxmi Races next time. He would drive her over, pay all expenses and even give her some money to bet with – if she would help in choosing winners!

During the monsoon, the Royal Western India Turf Club conducted its racing in Poona. This is a city quite close to Bombay but receiving much less rainfall. The climate is very pleasant with the temperature not rising over 80 degrees Fahrenheit during the monsoon. The train service from Bombay was also very convenient as there was a “Race Special” on race days, leaving about 7am and arriving in Poona around 11am.The journey is only about 190 km but it it contains many steep grades and sharp curves – with over 40 tunnels. It also included a “reversing station” at one place where the mountainside could not be made suitable for curve at a suitable grade. At these kinds of reversing stations, the train was taken to the edge of the mountain slope, then the engine at the rear of the train took charge and the train went backward, with the front engine now being the “pusher”! Two engines had to be used for the “ghat” section, a distance of about 40 mines, starting at Neral and ending at Lonavla (about a 2000 ft. rise). The return journey was after the races finished and the race-goers could be back in Bombay by 10:30 pm. A dining car was also on the train so a good dinner and drinks could be had for reasonable prices.

The races moved back to Mahalaxmi in Bombay after the monsoon was over (about the middle of October). On the opening day in Bombay, Byramji called for Mona and took her to the Member’s Enclosure. As the horses were being paraded for the first race, he asked Mona what she fancied. After watching the horses for some time, she pointed to a rather nice looking horse. Byramji laughed scornfully, remarking that this horse was not considered even to come in the first 4! He said that he was going to bet on the favourite! However, Mona persisted that her choice was the better one. So, Byramji laughed and said that he would give her 100 Rupees to bet on her fancy and, if it gave her any money, she was welcome to keep it! To cut a long story short, the horse won by a neck! As the odds were something like 15/1, Mona collected a nice little sum. She offered to repay Byramji but he insisted that it was all hers.

A few days later, besides getting herself odds and ends, Mona invested nearly half the amount in buying the best portalbe “His Master’s Voice” gramaphone and a set of records. These included some classical ones featuring singers like Caruso and others of lighter music. In those days, the best HMV quality records were the “White Labels”, priced at about 5 Rupees each. The next quality down had “Red Labels” at Rs. 3.50 and ordinary dance music, etc….cost about Rs. 2 and had “Cherry Red Labels”.

[ed. This must have been the beginning of our family's multi-generational passion for horse racing...for better or for worse! Incidentally, I'm not sure whether they are related, but the most successful racehorse trainer in Indian history is also a Byramji!]

Back in Bombay

Mona and I arrived in Bombay in early June, 1937. We stayed at Father’s place in Bandra, a suburb on the north of Bombay Island – about 9 miles from the city centre. The Monsoon had just started but, fortunately, the house was on the sea front so we had a lot of fresh breeze – often too much! It was the day after our arrival when we had an interesting surprise…

Just before Father left for his office after breakfast, he got a phone call from the Chief Secretary to the Government of Bombay. In those days, the Chief Secretary, an ICS officer, was a very powerful person under whom the Home Portfolio fell. This included the Police Department and Intelligence.

“Tyabji, I understand that a young English woman is your guest? I have also been informed that she has come to marry you!”

Father was taken aback, but after a pause he replied, with a laugh, “It is correct that I have a young English woman as my guest, but she is my son’s fiance”.

“Oh, I am sorry for the mistake, said the Chief Secretary, may I speak to her?”

When Mona came to the phone, she was greeted with the surprising news: “Mona, this is your Uncle Henry! What is this I learn that you are thinking of marrying Mr. Tyabji’s son! Of course, Mr. Tyabji is from a very respected family and holds an important post in the Government, but he is an Indian – and you cannot marry an Indian! It’s not done!” [ed. Officially, Uncle Henry was "Sir Henry Knight"]

“Well”, Mona replied, “I am doing it! I do not see what business it is of yours – we scarcely know each other.”

“Please don’t get upset”, said Uncle Henry. “If you come to tea this afternoon at the Yacht Club, we could have a nice talk and I’ll explain matters”.

“Oh! That will be very nice!, said Mona. “I’ll put on the nice saree that my future father-in-law has presented to me.”

“Oh my God! Don’t do that”, exclaimed Uncle Henry. “The Yacht Club is very strict that only white people are permitted in. Even the Indian Maharajahs cannot visit! I’ll get thrown out if you come dressed in a saree!”

[ed. Mona at her Father-in-law's place in 1937 - dressed in a saree!]

Well, Mona went to the Yacht Club dressed in her Scottish kilt. Henry met her and had a long talk, explaining that, however educated and Anglicized Indians are, “British Society” do not mix with them socially, except for “formal” occasions. Hence, marrying an Indian would likely cause her embarrassment in her social life. Henry was generalizing to some extent as there were many instances of Indian Government Officers (even from the “Favourite of the Gods, the ICS”) who had married Europeans. One of these cousin, Akbar Hydari (son of my Uncle, Sir Akbar Hydari), who had a Swedish wife and went on to become the Governor of Assam and was given a Knighthood!

Before taking his leave, Henry told Mona that he would introduce her to some Senior Officers such as the Director General of Police and some of his staff. He felt that this would give her a chance to appreciate that type of society in India. One advantage of this offer was that Mona got a chance of getting some riding on very good horses from the Police and the Army and met some very nice young people at the same time. One such couple was the District Collector of Sholapur whom she met at a friends house where they had come for a visit. The “Wells” were Scottish and Mona became very fond of them. They invited her to spend a few days at Sholapur which she did – and had the fun of playing with their pet lamb!

The Journey Home

So, the fateful day arrived and we got on the train to Dover from were we would cross the Channel to the French town of Calais. We were going to Paris where we were to spend a few days. We had already sent off our heavy baggage for loading on the P&O (Pacific & Oriental) liner via Carter Patterson, a firm specializing in moving materials. Thomas Cook had arranged our bookings for the train journey to Marseilles via a round about tour of Paris, Milan and Geneva. We would catch the P&O liner in Marseilles for our journey to Bombay. We were travelling in “Tourist Class” this time – and “Second Class” on the Railways.

Whilst sitting in the dining car for lunch before reaching Dover, Mona and I got into conversation with an Italian gentleman from Milan. He told us that he had a palatial villa there and would be happy if we looked him up when we visited the city. He even offered us the hospitality of staying at his house. He was a charming person, very cultured, and we learned a lot about Italy from him. We told him that we would look forward to visiting him and take him up on his offer to put us up for three days or so.

We arrived in Paris in the late afternoon after having caught an Express train from Calais. With Mona’s fluency in French, we had little trouble in finding a nice middle-class hotel. We had decided that, as far as travelling in Europe was concerned, it would be more enjoyable and economical if we stayed together in a double room! We spent three days in Paris and thoroughly enjoyed the food and the gardens and palaces. We then made for Geneva on the beautiful Lac Leman. We spent only a couple of days in Geneva as there wasn’t much to the city but the scenery and the lake were marvelous! Geneva is an important place internationally as it was (and probably is) the Headquarters of many international bodies such as the International Labour Organization (ILO) and the Red Cross, etc… We were not politically minded and, at that time, this aspect of the city was lost on us. However, we did enjoy the delicious Swiss food – especially the pastries and chocolates!

We then crossed into Italy via the famous Simplon Tunnel. An Italian official checked our passports and other documents as we crossed the border. I had started a small moustache and the Italian official turned to Mona and said “the moustache suits your friend”! We arrived in Venice where it was quite warm and even slightly uncomfortably so! It was very enjoyable visiting the gondolas and palaces. We had read a lot about Venice and I was especially interested to see the location of Shakespeare’s play, “The Merchant of Venice”. One of the places we found very interesting were the glass factories. We visited one and admired the skill with which the worker drew up the molten glass and blew it to form a goblet and then turned it skillfully on the side of a metal mould to form beautiful shapes. As we entered the premises we were asked to sign a “Visitors Book” and, in turning the pages, I was pleasantly surprised to see the name “Badruddin Tyabji” next to a date indicating the late 1890’s! We also duly fed the pigeons at the front of the Doge’s Place, took a tour through the canals and saw a bit of the country outside the city.

From Venice, we went west to Milan and enjoyed visiting an impressive city. It had a very large glass covered “super” market selling almost everything one could think of. The trams, very modern, were also quite chic and better than the London Underground in comfort and appearance. Unfortunately, it was very hot! The temperature was over 100 degrees farhenheit as far as I remember and we did not have clothes suitable for the “tropics” as they were in the boxes that had been sent ahead to the ship! The villa of our friend, however, was pleasantly cool and a complete blessing.

We had an interesting 3 days and then took the train to Marseilles to join the P&O liner. It was quite an old ship but quite comfortable for the trip home….

The End of an Era

The last term of my College finished in May of 1936. Soon after, I learned that I had got through with an Honours Degree but the ceremony for graduation would be sometime in August or September. I had no intention of spending this time in England as I had no success in trying to get a job in any of the Engineering Firms. These were times of “Depression” and jobs were not easy to get, with preference being given to English engineers over people from foreign countries.

I had seen quite a lot of England, having gone over many parts of the South and some of the North. Whilst going to Torquay, I had visited the famous cathedral at Wells and had previously been to Canterbury Cathedral. Then, with the family I had seen Arundel Castle. There were many other places of interest visited by me outside London. But, of London itself, I had not seen much of the Museums and not even The Tower where the Crown Jewels were kept! This was in spite of me having explored much of the city on the motorbike while visiting friends and going to places where we had badminton, tennis and fencing practice and matches.

I have a vivid memory of an incident when I was on my way to a badminton match to be played in a hall in the Battersea area on November 11th, 1934. It had struck 11 am when the hooters went on, all traffic came to a stop, and the whole of London became silent. It was wonderful and rather eerie to find the noise of a city like London brought to a stop with dead silence! It was “Armistice Day”, and for three minutes there was silence. Then, the hooter again came to life and, like the turning of a switch, the city came to life and the roar started.

I had written to Father that I had been successful in getting my Degree in Civil Engineering and that I would arrange to return to Bombay in a month or so. I had talked over the matter with Mona and told her that as far as I was concerned, I loved her and wanted to marry her. However, as I had no job and no money of my own, she would have to wait some time for me to get a job in India and send over some money for her to come across. I also told her that if I took too long and she felt that hanging around was not going well for her – and she found someone else in the meantime, I would not blame her!

I wrote about this to Father and also mentioned that Mona had a good job in London at present (as a receptionist in a block of self-service apartments where her knowledge of French and her personal charm made her very popular). Father wrote back that he did not like this type of arrangement and that was sending the necessary money to permit Mona to accompany me to Bombay. She was to stay with Father and Mother for as long as she liked to see what conditions in India were like: especially regarding mixed marriages and the reaction of the British officials with whom she would have to mix.

Both us were delighted with this generous offer from Father. However, we had a rather negative reaction from Mona’s mother (Anita) and Hilda Devereux. In Anita’s words: “Mark my words, you will land up living in a mud hut!”. Hilda: “You will have one black, one brown, and one fair child!”. I suspect that Anita, being a Scot, had some ability to see into the future but the view was not very clear! It was true that Mona ended up living in a “mud hut” but that was after I retired and made a temporary mud-walled house in Ranchi. Mona found it so comfortable that she refused to put up another brick and mortar bungalow on the farm!

[ed. Mona's Mother - and my Great-Grandmother some 20 years earlier]

As regard’s Hilda’s prophesy, that was quite far off the mark! Hilda had a good laugh when we reminded her of her remark when we went to spend a weekend with her and Don in Norwich in 1977, by which time Don had become a Bishop at the cathedral! During that visit, we also met one of the daughters (Daphne) who, by then, was married with a family.

Before writing about the return trip, some more about the last days in London and about Mona’s activities. As I had mentioned earlier, I had neglected to visit many of the sights around London. Both Mona and I then made a determined effort to see as many places as possible in the fortnight before we expected to leave. We went to places like the British Museum, the Natural History Museum, etc…as well as The Tower to see the Crown Jewels! 

It was a very hurried sight-seeing tour as we had to make arrangements for packing and sending-on our heavy luggage. I even made a wooden crate for my faithful motorbike. As mentioned earlier, I used it until about 1970 when I presented it to a junior tea garden officer named Rashid Kidwai in Assam.

A couple of incidents from Mona’s life in the 3 years I had known her are interesting. About a year after we met, Mona became ill with a touch of tuberculosis. She had contracted the disease in one of her lungs from nursing patients and was advised to take a holiday in Scotland with her Uncle. She came back cured but was advised to give up her hospital Nursing training. She ended up getting a job as a private nurse to an old man, Sir George Ridley, who lived in a fine large estate with his wife some miles out of London. Her job was to help him urinate using a catheter as he probably had prostate trouble. However, soon after Mona had settled in, the old wife began to feel jealous! Probably, she felt that the old man still had retained some of the “vim” as he had when he was Chief Engineer of the Burma Public Works Department! He told Mona that he had built the “Road from Rangoon to Mandalay” for which he received a Knighthood after his retirement. So…the old Lady Ridley looked round for an older person and Mona had to leave this nice place…

In one way, I don’t think Mona was very sorry to leave. I had presented her with a Scotty puppy, “Roddy”. She had taken it to the Ridley’s place and had told the maid that the pup should not be allowed to run out in the grounds on its own when Mona was out. One day, Mona took the car to get some stuff from town and, as she drove along the driveway, the pup suddenly darted out from the hedge and right under the front wheel. Unfortunately, the pup was killed instantly and Mona wrote me a very sorrowful letter with the news.

Mona’s relation to her Mother: As far as I could make out, there was not much affection between Mona and Anita, her mother. Apparently, Anita had got fond of a young sub-altern in the Army during the 1914-1918 war. He was a boy from a good class family, DeHavilland Knight, and Mona was born before they got married. Sadly, the boy was killed in the War. Mona was then brought up by her Uncle Alec and his French wife. They treated Mona with great affection and, for all practical purposes, they were her real parents. As far as Mona was concerned, this was the case and she treated Anita as more of a “family member”, calling her “Anita” rather than “Mother”.

Alec Simpson: The Simpsons are an old Scotish family and, apparently are connected with the MacDonald. Mona once told me that Ramsay MacDonald, the Labour Party Prime Minister of England, was a “cousin” but that she preferred not to acknowledge the fact as “he was from a very low class!”. I thought this a most unusual reaction for a person of Scottish ancestry! Mona had this particular idiosyncrasy of judging people by their accents and poor old MacDonald, having come up from a poor Scottish family with a very “broad” accent, was considered as “low class”!

Alec was a very well educated person with high academic qualifications. He was also a very fine sportsman, a boxer who represented his University as a Boxing Blue. He had also served in the Army during the 1914 War and, when Mona went to stay with him sometime in 1923, he was Head of the Dumfries Academy (a sort of public school in Scotland). He had two daughters, the elder of which was Catherine who later married Edward Wisley. They now live in Essex. The younger daughter was named Annette and she later married a fellow named Gordon Rose. Both daughters treated Mona as a sister and were very fond of her. Alec’s wife was also a very well educated person and Mona credited her for teaching her a very good French accent! Unfortunately, Alec’s wife died fairly young so I never got to meet her. Alec died at the good old age of 93 on the 10th of November, 1991!

Reverting to Mona’ life when young, apparently Anita and she stayed in Inverness for a few years. Mona always maintained that the English spoken in Inverness was the best – and spoken with the best accent! She ascribed her own manner of speaking to a youth spent in that Scottish city. She also learned very good French as she went to a local school which had a Frenchwoman teaching. Mona was very fond of fishing and was also reasonably good at golf….both presumably as a result of a mis-spent Scottish youth!

Mona did not have much to do with her Father’s side of the family. However, once a very attractive dark-haired girl drove up to the Vicarage and took Mona away for a party. Later, Mona told me that she was a DeHavilland-Knight and a cousin. Mona, however, decided to drop “DeHavilland” from her name and, after the deed poll, she called her self “Mona Knight”.

“Lady Jane” Simpson was Mona’s aunt and a person I liked very much (and, to my gratification, also liked me)! She was a short, dainty person, possibly nearing 60 when I met her. Mona and I used to visit her in her London flat quite frequently and she always made us welcome. It was at Lady Jane’s place that I first tasted liquor, a very small glass of sweet sherry. It was meant “to warm [me]” ,in Lady Jane’s words, during a visit with her on a cold and clammy November evening. She was quite happy at Mona going off with me. We were living in Chhindwara in 1939 when Mona had a bad feeling one day. She told me that she had a premonition that something bad had happened. She asked me to make note of the day and time and her bad feeling was confirmed when we heard a few days later that Lady Jane had died at approximately that time.

Romantic Summer

After my return to London from my training visit to Hull I found that the Devereux family had gone off for a fortnight’s holiday. They had left the house in charge of a retired school principal, Miss. Holm, who was staying in the spare room. I had nothing to do except visit friends, play tennis in the afternoons, and have an evening or two per week with Mona. The weather continued to be perfect, warm and dry, and motorcycling was very enjoyable.

One evening, Mona and I had gone out of London on her off day and it was nearly midnight before we returned to the house. Mona said that she would have difficulty in getting back into the Hostel as the return time was 11 pm at the latest. She suggested that she stay at my place. The only spare room was occupied by Miss. Holm but Mona said “that does not matter, I’ll stay in your room!”. She also said that it would not be nice to disturb the old lady at this late hour…

So, we tucked into a snack and then I spread a mattress on the floor for me to sleep on and told Mona she would have the bed. Well, I had just made myself comfortable when Mona said that she wanted to talk and came over and snuggled down with me! That was very nice and cosy and, after some talking, both of us went to sleep – not what the sophisticated youngsters of today would think!

The next morning we met Miss. Holm and told her that Mona had spent the night at the house. She was very shocked! Later, when Mrs. Devereux returned, Miss. Holm told her of the incident, which resulted in Hilda Devereux informing me that I should not have done such a thing (Miss. Holm was left to put Mona straight)!

A few days later, Mona got 10 days leave from her Hospital and decided to spend the holiday at a sea-side place (Torquay) about 180 miles south-west of London and about 30 miles north-east of Plymouth. I found time hanging on my hands so I decided to take a run over to Torquay as well. I got my motorcycle tuned up and left one morning wearing a leather motorcycling overcoat and goggles. About half-way there, as I was bowling along at 50 mph, a wretched wasp decided to cross my path and hit me on the forehead! The sting was very painful but it was light so did not cause me too much discomfort.

I arrived at Mona’s boarding house in the evening and, after a joyful reunion, asked the landlady if she could put me up. She said that she was fully booked and, as far as she knew, most of the places would be similarly situated at the height of the summer season. Then Mona said that I could share her room. At first, the landlady appeared a little put out as, in those days, it was not common for “boyfriends” to be so intimate in public! However, she soon agreed but had her “pound of flesh” by saying that I would have to pay half-rate of the boarding charge for one full room!

The room was very small – about 9 feet by 11 feet, with a small single bed and no room for even a mattress on the floor. That, however, did not worry Mona as she said we would share the bed. And so…we had a very cosy and romantic week. The sophisticated youngsters of today would have been justified in their conclusions!

Torquay is a very beautiful seaside place. The ocean water is comparatively warm but the beach has a lot of pebbles. Small rocks like about the beach, making walking interesting. I have a very nice picture of Mona wearing my College blazer and sitting on one of these rocks. The picture was originally in black and white, but I coloured it using Kodak colours. [ed. Am searching for this photo and will insert when found. In the meantime, here's a photo of Mona from the same era]

Well, all good things come to an end and the week passed quickly. I returned to London on the motorbike but Mona had to take the bus as it would have been rather too tiring to spend so many hours on a pillion. Also, she had a suitcase to carry which would have been tricky as I had my backpack sticking out behind me.

One important thing came out of this holiday: we found that we were very fond of each other and could get on very well in our thoughts and actions. So…we decided to be semi-officially engaged! I wrote to father and mother about it and they had no objections as they very much liked Mona. However, I was still a student with questions of whether to return to India or get a job in England…but those things still remained in the future….

Yorkshire Pudding and Engineering

During this period I also took the opportunity of putting in a month of unpaid apprenticeship at learning the practical side of a very interesting bit of work going on at the Hull River. This river joins the Humber at the City of Hull in Yorkshire, almost due north of London and about 270 miles in distance. The Humber is a very large river, navigable for quite some distance, whilst the Hull was only about a 100 feet wide with a depth of about 10 to 15 feet, but fast flowing through the City.

Small boats and lighters used the water way taking goods to warehouses within the City area and also for going further into the country northwards. As the river divided parts of the City of Hull, bridges were required across it. To allow the barges to pass through, either the bridge had to be high or it could be made to swing or lift open. At one place, a new bridge was being put up with its two halves capable of lifting upwards. This was technically known as a Bascule bridge. To take the heavy cables supplying the electrical power to operate the motors at either end, an 8 foot diameter tunnel was under construction. The bridge foundations had already been made and one of the half-spans was ready whilst the other was nearing completion.

I arrived at the site near the bridge one afternoon and asked the people working whether there were any families near about with whom I could board. One of them asked me to try a house about 1/2 a mile away. I went over and when the lady of the house (about 60′ish, short and sturdy) came to the door, I asked her whether she could put me up for a fortnight or so as I was going to be on the bridge work. She looked very doubtfully at me and said “We are not used to having lodgers. Also, you are not English and might find our ways difficult”. I assured her that I would be quite comfortable with anything that they could provide. So, still feeling very doubtful, she said that she had a small room in the attic and, if I liked it, I could stay. I asked her what she would expect me to pay. “Oh”, she said, “I really do not know. However, possibly one and a half pounds per week and all meals would be alright if it suited me!” I assured her that would be very acceptable!

Later, I met the husband – a very pleasant Yorkshireman. He was short, about my height, but very broad with arms as thick as my legs. He was wearing a glove on his left hand which, he explained, was to protect it from getting burnt on hot objects (he had lost all feeling in it after an accident). He had recently retired from working on a whaling ship. In the evening I met the son. He was about my age, a slim youth taking after the mother in build, and a very pleasant personality. He was intrigued in meeting a “foreigner”, especially from India.

Supper was served soon after with the mother apologizing frequently about the simple fare. She placed a steaming dish of Yorkshire pudding along with a large bowl of delicious smelling beef gravy on the side. I have never tasted more appetising food than that dish – and never got such tasty Yorkshire pudding as I got at that home! The crisp pastry, and the tasty gravy soaked in it, as one forked the beef – cooked just right!

After supper, the son asked me if I was doing anything in the evening. I said I was at a loose end so he asked if I’d like to see the inside of a projector room where he worked as an operator at the local cinema. I said I’d be very interested so we walked over to the cinema and he showed me the details of how the pictures were projected. In those days the screen was about half the size of the present ones and the projection was in black and white. The hall was also quite small.

As mentioned earlier, at the bridgeworks, one span was ready whilst the one on the opposite side from where I was staying was still being completed. Each side had large electric motors with the necessary machinery to lift the heavy half-span. Only a small proportion of the cantilevered weight was counter-balanced so the motors had to be powerful. As a result, the motors required very heavy cables to carry the electric current.

The power was provided from my side of the road and an eight-foot diameter tunnel was being driven through the stiff clay soil. The cutting was done using pneumatically worked shovels which were very heavy but, fortunately, the workmen were all strong armed persons. The clay was so stiff that there was practically no water seepage even though the top of the tunnel was only 6 feet below the river bottom.

As there was no (not yet) bridge across the river, a boat had been provided to me. It was about 10 feet long and had to be propelled by placing an oar through a notch in the rear-end vertical board. The method was to work the oar into a figure-8 movement which propelled the boat forward and also acted as a rudder to keep it straight.  The technique, however, required a lot of practice and the strong current in the river was another factor adding to my difficulty in maneuvering the boat across. At first, I was swept quite a distance downstream before I could reach the other shore! On the return trip, one of the workmen took pity on me and expertly rowed me across. But, after a few days, I got the hang of it and was able to cross the river by myself without feeling like an utter fool!

The tunnel was cut using the pneumatically worked shovels. Templates were used to get an accurate 8-foot diameter hole. When the cut was just over a foot in depth, segments made of cast iron were bolted together to form a strong ring to support the sides. Thus, the tunnel cutting advanced about a foot at a time. The work was quite fast with two men working at a time. Both the faces were worked simultaneously, the direction being kept true by checking with a theodolite.

Besides getting an insight into a very interesting bit of work, I was also able to get an idea in the practical side of steel structure fabrication by watching the construction of the half-span. I was also able to study the design aspects of the bridge: the force variation in such type of bridges were quite different from straight-forward bridge spans.

I spent about three weeks on this work and enjoyed every moment of the time spent there as I could see a lot of the country at the same time. Unfortunately, I do not have very much detailed memory of the other scenes, only a general feeling that the visit was very enjoyable!

A Fling at Gliding and A Bit of Surveying

At City and Guilds College (part of the Imperial College) we had a club for students who wished to learn gliding. The members did everything themselves. This included repairs to the glider – which was required frequently as rough landings were frequent by the novices. The gliding was held on the lovely Downs at Dunstable, about an hours motorcycle run from London. These downs are low hills covered with short turf and with easy slopes. The wind in these parts was fairly stiff but just comfortable for helping the glider to rise as it caught the uplift coming up the slope. The glider was started off by a party of two or four men holding it in front (but clear of the nose). There were an additional four men pulling a long, strong elastic cord attached to the glider’s tail. When the pull was balanced, the pullers released the glider with the quick release hook and the front ropes dropped off as the glider shot forward like a stone from a catapult! The nose was facing the wind and, with a combination of luck and skill, the pilot got the uplift and soared away.

I joined the club, I think in my second year, and attended the gliding sessions a few times. During these sessions, I had attempted the feat myself about half a dozen times, my best being a flight of about 200 feet! Unfortunately, another member had a bad landing and the skids on the glider were badly damaged. We went to the flying sessions after classes as daylight during the early Summer lasted until 8 p.m. However, I found that I was losing a lot of time from my studies two to three days per week so I decided to give it all up.

As mentioned earlier, the students in second year were more oriented towards their respective specialties. I, being a Civil Engineering student, had a lot of surveying practice to do. During the year, we had an hour each week surveying different areas of Hyde Park which were adjacent to the College.

When the year finished in early May, we were taken to a Surveying Camp located near Ringwood in the New Forest area. Possibly many of you will remember the stories of Robin Hood and his Merry Men and “wicked” Sheriff! Ringwood is near the City of Bournemouth, about 100 miles south-west of London. It has a lovely climate in Summer.

We were accommodated in tents and had a proper camp life. We washed and bathed in the small stream flowing nearby, cooked our own meals and ate around a campfire. The days were spent carrying out a survey of a project – different for each group of four, there being five groups in total. The weather was kind and, after the day’s work, it was very refreshing to have a swim in the cold water of the stream. The water was quite cold (about 16 degrees celsius) and I found that I could not stay in it for more than 10 minutes or so. On the other hand, the English students were quite happy to spend more time in playing water polo and generally enjoying themselves.

As Bournemouth was quite near, and we had a holiday from work on Sundays, I went over to the city and spent a day sightseeing. It is a very pleasant place, or at least it was then, and I am sure it still has much of its charm even now: pleasant climate, gardens, and the “cheynes” which are deep and short valleys draining into the English Channel.

We spent a fortnight on this survey project, then returned to London.The whole of our 3rd year was spent in drawing out the survey details on the special “water paper” we were provided. This paper could be cleaned with water after all the inked-in lines had been completed. After cleaning, the plan was coloured with water colours, something like what is seen in the coloured maps in atlases. We had two hours per week for this work but many of us worked quite a bit more so that we could produce real works of “art”!

The weather continued to be gorgeous and my cousin, Kamran Latifi, who was studying in Cambridge University suggested that we make a trip to the Isle of Wight (which is just off Bournemouth). With the two of us sharing costs, the expense was reduced quite a lot. We spent a very enjoyable week sightseeing, playing tennis and swimming in the sea.

Another thing that happened around this time was that my other cousin Badruddin was in London and staying with his friends, Jim Ede and his wife Helen. I had a very interesting time visiting with them one evening as the Edes were very artistic and showed me a glimpse into a different type of culture. Badr’s autobiography, Memoirs of an Egoist, describes Jim Ede as “the well known aesthete, author and art connoisseur”. At the time I met him, he was the Associate Director of the Tate Gallery and proved to be a most fascinating individual.