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bungalow my great-grandfather had built, passing tea
bushes which had been pruned. We arrived at a small hill
with three lychee trees. These trees, planted by my great-
grandfather, were still flourishing. Apparently the local
children still pick the fruit every year. We fought through
the foliage and arrived at the top where some bricks
remaining from the bungalow were pointed out to me.The
bungalow itself was destroyed by fire many years ago.The
view across the estate was incredible and I could see why
this spot had been chosen. As we moved back down some
elephant dung was pointed out.This was a major issue for
my great-grandparents as they had inadvertently built the
bungalow on an elephant trail. This caused issues as the
elephants tried to go through the bungalow. My great-
grandmother apparently spoke of this often with great
sadness.
From the hill we moved towards the river where we were
shown the well and the footings for the pump system with
the bolts still in the concrete where the pump would have
been situated. The stable footings were still evident as my
great-grandfather was a keen huntsman and brought his
horses and hounds.When he arrived he realised there were
no foxes and in his letters home said he had found new
game to hunt. We were then led down to the river where
my great-grandfather had built a hydro-electric dam. Both
sides of the brick dam structure still exist although the actual
dam has long since disappeared. He had built a brick tunnel
in one of the walls which diverted the water to the turbine
and the bolts built into the wall showed clearly where the
turbine had been connected. Building it and actually getting
it to work was clearly an engineering feat, as it was miles
from anywhere, in a jungle. It was believed to be the first
source of electricity in Upper Assam.
We then went down to the grave of my great-grandfather.
He was laid to rest on the estate having been shot by an
arrow while patrolling the outer fences ensuring that there
was no elephant damage. He died from septicaemia that
set in following the injury. From the letters he wrote to his
mother back in Somerset, England, it is likely he had
contracted malaria but in those days little was known about
it, let alone a cure.This, combined with the wound, would
not have improved his survival rate. The grave faces out
onto an incredible view and one can only imagine my
great-grandmother buried him in his favourite place, a
sufficient distance from the bungalow. He died on the 1st
of September 1908 but the gravestone inscription states
1904. My guess is there was a mistranslation from the
handwriting but we will never know.
I laid flowers and lit candles on his
grave.Mythanks go to
Jayanta for arranging this and for looking after the grave
so well. I found this an emotional time, reflecting on how
a man from an estate in Somerset could arrive in Assam,
build a bungalow, form a tea estate and even provide
electricity.This would have been no mean feat as when he
arrived there was no railway or bridges across the rivers.
Simply moving required materials to build the
infrastructure would have taken months.Then to clear the
jungle and form a tea estate is beyond comprehension.
As we headed through the estate towards the bungalow
we were able to see the various stages of the tea plants in
the estate. Some of the older plants could well have been
planted by my great-grandfather but that may be wishful
thinking on my part.The estate is so quiet and beautiful –
I could see the attraction of living there. Sadly, after an
excellent breakfast it was time to say goodbye to Jayanta
and Rupa and to the Boroi Tea Estate.The return journey
to Calcutta resulted in another flight delay but this time I
thought that, had this been in the 1800s, it would have
taken me days to get there and back – not the nine hours
it takes today.
As I write this in my study with the rain beating on the
window and winter still here in the UK, Boroi seems so far
away but is embedded in my memory. It is nice to think
what was started by my great-grandfather is still in
operation and providing employment even today.
I would like to thank Mr Rajat Dutt, Jayanta and Rupa
and all who made this a very special visit. I met my second
key objective and, as I write, am drinking a cup of Boroi
tea which I would highly recommend. I would love to
return again one day, but who knows...
We are informed by Mr Tim Robertson that his great-grandfather, the founder-owner of Boroi T.E. (erstwhile Singlijan T.E.)
Mr Alfred Absolum Glass, was, in fact, an Englishman from Somerset, and not a German national as mentioned in Treasury
(Boroi T.E.) in the July 2013 issue.
Mr Robertson also informs us that it was on 1 September 1908, aged only forty-one, that Mr Glass breathed his last. A worker
had been caught stealing tea by the Manager and, afraid of being punished by Mr Glass, shot him with a bow and arrow while
he was out on his horse checking the fences at night. Already in a weakened state caused by malaria for which there was no cure in
those days, Mr Glass succumbed to the septicaemia which had set in from the infected wound inflicted by the arrow.
We would like to thank Mr Robertson for providing us with this information.
~ Editors
54 July 2016