f.       Entertainment at Home and School

In every railway town there was perpetual entertainment at the railway station itself where trains and passengers came and went and steam locomotives moved ponderously and powerfully, yet smoothly. No wonder all young boys wanted to become engine drivers. Even the guards stirred the imagination, blowing their whistles and waving their green flags or, at night, their green lamps. The responding whistle of the engine to the guard's signal and the engine's initial purposeful thrust of steam, transforming a stationary monster into one breathing jets of steam and a gathering impetus of turning wheels, was the showpiece. I don’t think the railway ever gets completely out of the systems of those whose childhoods were bound up with steam trains.

Every railway town which had a number of Anglo-Indian families also had a Railway Institute. The "inster" was the entertainment centre, and was particularly busy at Christmas. Father Christmas would show up with presents, and there was a party for the children. As the climax, a huge paper fish suspended from the ceiling and filled with khoi (a kind of popcorn) and sweets was slit open, and the children scrambled for the goodies that rained down and scattered on the polished floor. There was a Christmas Dance for adults, for which the dance hall was specially decorated, and chalk sprinkled on the floor, and for which the girls made elaborate preparation, often in new evening dresses. A live band of Goan musicians was brought in from Calcutta. There was a Sports Day for athletic events and fun events, with prizes awarded. For this festivity a Crown and Anchor table was set up and there was, for a small town, some serious gambling. Those gambling set down their money on a square marked by a design: a diamond, a heart. a crown, an anchor etc.. The croupier jiggled dice in a leather cup and rolled them onto the table. Payments were made to those whose choices came up. Volunteers from among the railway folk did the organizing, which included shopping in Calcutta for the children's gifts.

The inster was also busy at New Year. The New Year's Ball came soon after Christmas. There was a live band again. For the occasional dance the lights were dimmed and there was some secret smooching. Indians did not come to these dances and I'm sure if one had, there would have been much hostile bristling among the Anglo-Indians. Indians did not think much of men and women dancing in public, the dancing couples often not married to each other and in physical contact. The Anglo males also resented those male British and American military personnel who came to the dances, though these had an open invitation from the authorities. Many an Anglo-Indian girl met her British or G.I. husband at an Institute dance.

One winter, while I was still a schoolboy, I visited the Indian Institute in Jhajha. It was a much poorer sort of place: no hall with a floor of polished wood, no billiard room, no tennis courts outside; it was an old building with conspicuously little furniture, and that well-used and shabby. In fact, the place was shoddy with just the shoddiness Anglo-Indians stereotypically associated with Indian railway families. I had been drawn to the place because I had heard there were plays being performed there. The evening I went, the audience sat on the floor to watch scenes from the Ramayana. The demons were in dramatic costume, wearing devil masks, painted in vivid colours. There was much theatrical ranting by the actors, all male. The thought struck me that the inferior institute was putting on the superior entertainment. The audience was very restrained, after all, it was a religious performance too. Indians on the whole were welcoming to the Anglo-Indian boy in their midst, though not overtly so.

The Anglo-Institute, too, was used for religious purposes. Visiting Catholic priests and Church of England padres held masses and services there alternately. Some Sundays I went with my grandfather O'Rourke, he about 80 and I about 10. I think he must have been instrumental in having me confirmed a Catholic at that age. I had been christened Church of England as an infant. Anglo-Indians did not put on plays, concerts and other cultural events, at least not the Jhajha Anglo-lndians. At the Anglo-Institute there was a library and a reading room, a billiard room and a bar. Outside there were cement tennis courts, in use every afternoon, and two evenings a week there was badminton in the hall. There were large attendances for Bingo, most of the players being women, enjoying moderate excitement. Whist drives drew good crowds also. There were prizes for the high scorers, and always a consolation prize for the lowest score.

In some of the railway stations in the bazaars there was a cinema which showed both Indian and English films. These were advertised by posters and by a small band in a ghora garri (horse and carriage) blowing wind instruments and calling through a loudspeaker. The same conveyance and the same band were used to announce circuses and other tamashas (entertainments) that came to town.

I once witnessed a hilarious circus act in a tent set up on the maidan (open area). The seating was on uncomfortable metal chairs for those who could afford seats. The larger part of spectators stood toward the back on portable tiered stands. The seating area was in two sections, the first of only two rows closest to the ring, and separated from the other seats by a rope. There was a single spectator, an Indian, in the "posh" seats, and he instantly drew the attention and ire of the crowd. He was large and wore a shimmering silk shirt, and he was ostentatiously smoking a cigarette, blowing smoke over the circus ring and under the bright lights. The crowd was merry, having watched a volunteer spun in a net held in the mouth of an acrobat up in the roof. When the game spectator staggered out of the net, dizzy, he got a big hand and a big laugh.

Now came the elephant, but only half into the ring because it stubbornly refused to come the whole way. When it did enter the ring it continued to be recalcitrant. The trainer pulled it from in front and pushed it from behind, and it would take only very small steps. Inch by inch it moved while the crowd watched the conflict of wills and suddenly all became aware the huge animal was backing into the silk-shirted show-off in the first row. He shouted a warning to the trainer, who only shrugged as if to say "what can I do?" Still that enormous backside bore down on the hapless spectator, almost into his face as he tilted back, gesticulating wildly. The inevitable happened: the man went arse over kettle backwards. He got to his feet in great indignation and began to leave, flinging imprecations over one shoulder. He could not see where he was going, walked into the rope and fell again. The crowd was in hysterics. It was an act worthy of Charlie Chaplin.

Entertainments at schools were the usual: according to individual school facilities, they had all the field sports; sometimes swimming, gymnastics, boxing and roller skating were options. The boys' boarding school I attended in Kurseong, Victoria School, was lucky to have a sister school, and there was the occasional dance, always chaperoned, which both schools attended. These were evenings of romantic possibility, but any girl appearing on the school grounds at any time. became a romantic figure. Girls who desire to be noticed by boys should visit boys' boarding schools.

The boys at the hill boarding school in Kurseong were allowed great freedom The girls' school and the railway station were out of bounds, but boys could roam the forests, but not wander so far as to be out of earshot of the roll call bell, rung at random times. The unending forests were the finest entertainment of all. There, boys were as natural and as lively as wild birds and wild animals. It was because of the freedom allowed the boys that they considered the three “houses" in the school - every boarder belonged to one - to be aptly named Mallory, Irvine and Kellas. These climbers had stayed at the school on the unfortunate 1929 Everest expedition. There was something mountain-free about Victoria School. Boys were loyal to the school and to their houses. Younger boys played with pop guns made by themselves in the forest. From certain bushes, lengths of hollow stems, about eight inches in length, were fitted with a tight ramrod, which forcefully expelled berries with a loud pop. There were twin-barrelled versions as well.

Chingi was a popular game. Boys made their own chingis, contraptions in which a weight about the size of a coin was secured to feathers, something like a shuttlecock. The chingi was kept in the air by taps from the feet (or foot), the feathers controlling the descent and placing the chingi in position to be tapped upward again. Some boys could tap the chingi well above a hundred times before it fell to the ground. Gaindas (marigolds) made good chingi substitutes while they were "new", but they did not last long.

"Young cricket" was played with a tennis ball, makeshift wickets, and a hockey stick. It was excellent training in eye concentration, as anyone who has tried to hit a bouncing, fast-moving ball with a hockey stick for a bat would know. For the more serious matches there was an umpire and a scorer. Taws (marbles) and conquers (chestnuts) had their seasons.

Competitive sports involving close team work are the lifeblood of boarding schools and Victoria School was no exception. In matches against "outside" teams, where the school's reputation was at stake, the standard of play was highest, but the "house" matches were the most intense. Good sportsmanship from players and spectators was expected. Barracking of any kind was forbidden; good plays from opponents were applauded. Captains led their teams in three cheers before they left the field. To be generous in victory and graceful in defeat was good training for life.

Boarding school boys and girls took great pride in being selected to represent their schools. The best players, both boys and girls, sometimes went on to play for Bengal or other large jurisdictions, and the schools honoured such achievers. I had a modest part in such recognition when at St. Xavier's I captained the cricket team and won awards in the other sports and in track and field. It meant a great deal to me to have my dad's approval and support at matches. He could attend those events that coincided with his runs from Jhajha to Howrah.

A rather humble but popular form of entertainment would come to the door in Jhajha with itinerant bandarwallahs (monkey men). The monkeys would be put in costumes and would mime character roles, the bandarwallah directing by tugs on ropes attached to the collars of the monkeys and by hand gestures. The monkeys, dressed in finery, would go through a marriage ceremony. The bridegroom would indulge too freely and would act drunk. The monkey man would have a hand drum which gave out staccato taps in a variety of rhythms as accompaniment to a sung libretto. The marriage section went
something like this:

Hasna pat a ka dhasna
Goria pat a ka dona
Dona, dona, mod i pia
Hila kana sona.

Which might be loosely translated as; There was fun all round and all joined in. The groom drank large drafts and shook his gold ear rings. It was my mother who had an ear good enough to pick up the monkey dance song, which she sometimes repeated for her children.

Processions often passed on Jhajha streets: marriages, funerals, religious festivals. At times when food became scarce for wild animals a troop of monkeys led by a dominant male would move into the trees lining the roads of the railway colony and carry out a raid. I once had an embarrassing encounter with a dominant male monkey. I was eating a popsicle in a public place when the monkey-leader came over to me, climbed up my body and calmly took the popsicle from my hand. The crowd of Indians there laughed at my expense. Also on rare occasions the Rajah of Gidhaur, a small princedom near Jhajha, would send the palace elephant to town and the Jhajha kids would be given rides while the animal tore off lower branches of passing trees and ate the leaves. 

India provides a world of free entertainment.