Jamalpur, the Town the British Built

From the album of D Nagarajan (SCRA, 1957)

1957 batch of SCRA. Nagarajan bottom row centre In the Dining Hall Revelling during Holi

Shashi Kapoor (middle row, right), Jennifer (front row, left) and Cycling to the Institute and Workshop
Shakespearana troupe stayed at the Gymkhana. With SCRAs.



REMINISCENCES



Peter Moss: Hothouse Heat For my father, the locomotive sheds of Jamalpur were Santa’s toy
factory. His training as a locomotive draughtsman had fulfilled
Peter Moss grew up in Jamalpur and now lives in Selangor, Malaysia. a boyhood passion and now he was reaping the harvest. He
Extract from his book “Bye-Bye Blackbird.” brought his work home with him, setting up a drawing board
over which he would spread blueprints that would occupy him
Jamalpur is the colony I associate with the greater store of for hours and reinforce his anti-social attitude. He hated to be
my earliest memories. Paul was born there, and caused me disturbed, least of all by his children, who were, in any case,
panic attacks as I watched him wilfully expose himself to increasingly becoming the property of his in-laws.
endless varieties of danger. Asia’s first and largest railway
workshops were located at Jamalpur, which owed its existence As in Kipling’s day, an invisible but unmistakable barrier
to the railways, as did virtually every one of its inhabitants. divided the railway colony from the plebeian remainder of
Locomotives were designed and built there from scratch. Jamalpur. I am told little has changed in the sixty and more
Nothing was imported. This otherwise unexceptional township years since I was there. Thoroughfares still bear names such as
was strategically located on the country’s first railway line, Albert, Warwickshire and Club Roads. In front of the imposing
linking the winter capital of Calcutta to the summer capital of Jamalpur Gymkhana, built six years before I was born, stood—
Simla. and still stands—a little Shantipur locomotive, polished and
shining as if newly commissioned. But the handsome red façade
of the Gymkhana itself was less accessible, to be viewed only
from a distance across its trimly circular lawn. A more familiar
haunt was the inevitable railway institute, where Paul and I,
accompanied by other extremely well-behaved children, all of
us escorted by our ayahs, attended formal birthday parties. The
central feature of these parties, or the main event as it were, was
the ceremonial bursting of the khoia bag, a ritual resembling
what Mexicans call the piñata. Piñatas may have originated in
China.

96  JAMALPUR: The Town the British Built employed piñatas to attract converts to their ceremonies.
Whatever its origins, the ritual so essential to our birthday
The Shantipur locomotive on Gymkhana lawn parties offered a source of employment to numerous skilled
Photo by GSP Rao makers of khoia bags, tailor-made to resemble either various
forms of bird and animal, or automobiles, ships, balloons,
Marco Polo claimed to have discovered the Chinese fashioning railway locomotives and aeroplanes. Fashioned from skeleton
figures of cows, oxen or buffaloes, covered with colored paper frames of bamboo strips, covered with layers of thin tissue or
and adorned with harnesses and trappings. Special colours crepe, these were filled with puffed rice, in which were buried
traditionally greeted the New Year. When these effigies were scores of cheap toys and coins, more than adequate to cater to
pierced with sticks, seeds spilled forth. After burning the the numbers of children present. The birthday celebrant would
remains, people gathered the ashes for good luck throughout be blindfolded, armed with a long stick, the length of a billiard
the year. The custom is believed to have passed into Europe in cue, and placed immediately under this bag of treasures, which
the 14th century, when it was adapted to the celebrations of Lent. would invariably be suspended from a ceiling fan. The guests
The first Sunday of Lent became Piñata Sunday, derived from would shout deliberately confusing directions until, impatient
the Italian word pignatta, meaning “fragile pot”. Originally, for the outcome, they would reverse this policy by trying
piñatas fashioned without a base, resembled clay containers for to guide the probing to its desired result. Once the bag was
carrying water. Possibly the Portuguese introduced the custom ruptured, rice, toys and coins would spill all over the floor, to be
to India. Certainly, Spanish missionaries to North America trampled underfoot by excited seekers of the richest pickings.
Patient, long-suffering sweepers would stand by with brooms,
to clear away the mess once the excitement had abated, and
solicitous amahs would be ready to console disappointed
charges who felt deprived of their rightful reward.

Drowning Pool

It was also at the Jamalpur railway institute that we watched our
first movies. Among the latter were old Arthur Askey comedies,
including his scary Ghost Train, and the first animated cartoon
of Gulliver’s Travels, in which a scene where the sleeping hero

is pegged out by Lilliputians left me profoundly disturbed. Reminiscences  97 
Granddad Watson saw little virtue in the invention of the
cinema, which trapped us in a darkened theatre when we end of the otherwise deserted pool, impressing upon us that
should have been outdoors, engaged in healthy exercise. He we must remain there and not attempt to follow him into the
liked to tell of the arrival of silent movies in Tundla, where an deep. Since it was our first visit to the baths, we were unaware
elderly resident was entranced by the shifting play of coloured of anything deeper than the area in which we stood, and such a
lights on the looped curtains that preceded the performance. prohibition would in any case have served merely as incentive
When the lights were extinguished, and the accompaniment for Paul, who strode recklessly after Uncle Trevor and vanished
of live piano music ceased in preparation for the parting of the from sight. Anxious to establish the cause of his disappearance,
curtains, this old gentleman assumed the show was over and I followed him over the sheer drop that separated the shallows
groped his way through the darkness to the exit, murmuring from the swimming area proper. Trevor, having completed his
his appreciation. But Granddad’s jaundiced view of moving traverse of the pool with a leisurely breast stroke, looked back to
pictures was not shared by the rest of the family, who thrilled to see both of us missing. Since we two nephews had just recently
epics such as the original Ben Hur and the first screen rendition been measured for our white satin tunics, in which we would
of Jerome Kern and Oscar Hammerstein’s Show Boat, released serve as page boys for his imminent wedding to our future
a year after my birth. Paul Robeson’s rendering of “Old Man aunt Ursula, he was understandably panic-stricken. Plunging
River” made a lasting impression. underwater, he first found and retrieved Paul, administering
enough resuscitation to ensure he was still alive. Then he
If I failed my father in his mechanical expectations, I also failed turned back to look for me. I had given up struggling, reaching
my grandfather in his efforts to encourage a regime of healthy that stage of euphoria which I have since learned presages a
exercise. Sporting activities of any kind were anathema to me, relatively painless death. Before losing consciousness I was
being far better suited to Paul’s physique and aptitude. I was mesmerised by a thin but intensely illuminated stream of
doomed to be both inept and effete. Even aquatic pursuits had bubbles; the last air leaving my lungs. Never since have I felt
little appeal, particularly after I came close to drowning at the entirely safe out of my depth in water.
Jamalpur railway institute swimming baths.
The Great Bihar Earthquake
It was my mother’s eldest brother Trevor who bore responsibility
for this mishap. He had left Paul and myself in the flat shallow Whatever his lapses, Trevor was easy to forgive. There was
always an engaging, self-deprecating smile hovering on his
lips, and he had a fund of stories to illustrate how perilous
was his bumbling course through life, when in reality he was

98  JAMALPUR: The Town the British Built western corner of the Indian sub-continent. It took much
longer to rebuild on the ruins of Quetta than it took to restore
the least likely candidate to play the role of fate’s plaything. Jamalpur to normality. Virtually all trace of damage from the
He was droll. His mission was to entertain, and he did it with Bihar earthquake had been erased by the time my parents
immense charm. I saw him as the most avuncular of my uncles, moved there.
tall, gangling, soft spoken and slightly absentminded— though
seldom as perilously so as that day at the swimming pool. Cumming family living in the garage and making chai outdoors.
Photos courtesy Peter Moss.
In January 1934, during his prolonged courtship of Ursula,
who was then living in Jamalpur with her parents, Pop and The Jamalpur maidan was expansive enough to land an
Esther Cummings, the surrounding state of Bihar was struck aeroplane, as was proved one afternoon when I witnessed a
by a devastating earthquake that killed thousands. Jamalpur lost aviator come down to get his bearings. The descent of his
station was torn down, the railway workshops collapsed, and stuttering Gipsy Moth—the first aircraft most of us had seen—
the main line was blocked so that no trains could run through attracted a large following, running in its wake as though
this important depot. The town itself suffered extensive damage
and the Cummings family lost their home, being compelled
to take up residence in their corrugated iron garage until the
bungalow was rebuilt. Snapshots of Trevor and the family,
boiling chai over the fire as they sit outdoors in deckchairs,
suggest a safari atmosphere that belies the seriousness of the
tragic event itself.

Mahatma Gandhi, who was then deeply involved in the
fight against India’s caste system, and specifically against
untouchability, extracted a positive lesson from the Bihar
earthquake. “A man like me,” he argued, “cannot but believe
this earthquake is a divine chastisement sent by God for our
sins”. The following year, on 31st May, 1935, less than a month
before I was born in Allahabad, another disastrous earthquake
virtually destroyed the distant city of Quetta, at the north-

intent on salvaging an especially valuable specimen cut loose Reminiscences  99 
from the kite fights habitually staged during maidan evenings.
We encircled the biplane when it came to a standstill, perhaps man shrugged. “He is getting himself lost. It is not surprising.
too close for the helmeted pilot, who waved us back. Keeping On the land, here you are. On the sea, there you are. But in the
his engine running, he summoned one of our number—of air, where you are?”
dark and clerical mien—to approach, engaging him in a brief
Jamal in Urdu means beautiful, and that is how the outskirts of
The expansive maidan, now a golf course. the colony struck me. There were lakes, waterfalls and groves
Photo by Rajya Bardhan of trees infested with baboons, liable to leap down and put the
unwary to flight with bared teeth. Beyond that wilder periphery
conversation before taking off again. Desperate to know what stretched enormities of distance, concealing mysteries that
words were exchanged, I presumptuously approached the would forever be denied me. It was at Jamalpur that I first became
privileged spectator and asked what the pilot had wanted. The aware of stations in life that had nothing to do with railways,
but were imposed by birth, caste and status. There was I first
made conscious of my exclusion from the immensity of that
greater India outside the narrow confines of my circumscribed
existence. Ours was a tiny enclave lost in a great continent. All
around were even smaller communities, mere villages dotted
across the plains. And I could never explore them, never have
anything to do with those other dwellers living their other
lives. I was not one of them. That was almost the first lesson
I was taught. They were Indian and I was not. I had to stick
to our island in their sea. I would hang upon the garden gate,
watching those forbidden other people pass by, dissolving
in the heat haze until they became little dancing apostrophes
of colour at the edges of my known world. I would wonder
at their destinations as they charted their courses across that
wasteland; the women walking in columns, pots balanced on
their coiled hair, saris billowing like sails in the breeze; the men
driving and calling to their cattle, coaxing and cajoling them

100  JAMALPUR: The Town the British Built Hindus, regardless of their caste. Questions of religion and caste
were the first consideration taken into account when recruiting
like lovers. Observing high-spirited chokra boys wrestling in servants, because the unnaturally close proximity in which they
the roadside dust, helpless with laughter, I would envy them were required to dwell created considerable opportunities for
their freedom to roam where they willed so long as they kept friction and stress. Bearers, for example, were in a more lowly
their half-starved cattle away from our carefully watered position than cooks, and baby ayahs took precedence over wash
compounds. Once I was hypnotized by the approach of a troupe ayahs. Malis, or gardeners, were only one rank above sweepers,
of strolling players, drawn from that gipsy tribe of musicians who were lowest of all in the pecking order. It was not an order
and acrobats who travelled from village to village, living off of existence I would consciously have condoned, but simply
the land with their songs, their conjuring and their wits. They one in which I was raised and never came to question until the
were a lean, wiry breed, with bundles on their heads, monkeys sheer appalling inequality of it was later borne home to me.
on their backs, drums and ropes slung from their shoulders
and performing bears shambling in their wake. Catching my Occupying tiny cubicles in this closely confined domain,
stare through the barred gate, one of them paused in his stride some servants had their families living with them, whose
and smiled, holding out a hand to beckon me. There was no children I would befriend as playmates, Paul being at that
need of speech. The eyes said it all. Come with me and you will stage too young—and already altogether too rough—to prove
see what you have not seen, know what you have not known. a satisfactory companion. While such fraternisation was not
actively discouraged by my parents, it didn’t exactly meet with
Compound Lives their approval either, particularly because I was oblivious to
the ranking structure and therefore to the confusion and even
Servants’ quarters were the farthest we were allowed to venture resentment that might be aroused. I was equally unconscious of
in our familiarity with the natives. These invariably comprised the strictures imposed on my playmates by their own parents,
a single row of brick cubicles, occupying the hindmost corner of who would have been desperately concerned that the disorderly
the back yard of the compound where, if it could be arranged, pursuits in which we engaged might lead to some regrettable
some strategically located vegetation might screen them from accident. What, for example, if one of them, provoked into
the view of our bungalow’s occupants. It was not our custom physical assault, should punch me on the nose? Handicapped
to intervene in the affairs of the servants’ quarters. We only did by such restraints, my companions from the servants’ quarters
so should it become necessary to adjudicate in some dispute would prove irritatingly deferential and cautious in their
among the inhabitants, who arranged themselves according
to strict hierarchical structures based on religion and caste.
For example, a Muslim cook would take precedence over all

response to my suggestions as to how we should occupy our Reminiscences  101 
time. They could tutor me in top spinning and kite flying,
neither of which activities exercised any particular appeal to me. our grounds. Equipped with lathis, bamboo poles of the kind
They could even teach me to play marbles and their versions employed by the herdsmen themselves, we would then lock the
of hopscotch and other childish pursuits. But they could never gate behind the intruders and inflict punishing damage before
properly view themselves as my equals and would therefore releasing them again. The notion must have seemed so alien to
prove vaguely dissatisfying as comrades in arms. my cow-revering Hindu accomplices that they could only stare
at me in astonishment, but presumably it was at the same time
Perhaps my most flagrant, if unconscious, abuse of power and so appallingly sacrilegious that it endeared itself to their darker
privilege arose when I suggested we should teach local cattle natures, for they eventually grasped their weapons with nods of
herdsmen not to allow their cows to stray into our property. assent and approval. We did not have long to wait. Observing
Ordinarily the gates to our compound would be closed to prevent the approach of about a dozen strays down the street beyond
such an occurrence. Having seen exasperated neighbours the gate, I opened that portal invitingly wide and joined those
emerge from their homes to find whole beds of canna lilies already concealed in shrubbery. Once the sorely tempted cattle
destroyed by masticating bovines, my mother was determined were unsafely within our boundaries, I rushed out, closed the
we would not repeat their mistakes. However, on this occasion gate and set about them with my staff, aiming principally for
I got it into my head that the infuriatingly supercilious cattle, those lop-sided humps which so strikingly distinguished them
casting disdainfully hooded eyes over all they surveyed, needed from the far healthier and more contented looking cows in
to be taken down a peg or two and reminded of their proper my picture books of European origin. This action provoked a
place in the greater zoological ranking system. So I proposed sudden shriek from the servants’ quarters, whence I saw my
a scheme whereby, the next time I observed stray cattle in our interfering ayah bearing down upon us in a cloud of dust and
vicinity, I would leave the gate open and encourage them into indignation. Her intervention—and the subsequent lecture
I received from my parents— put paid to my experiments in
cattle chastisement.

John Alton Price: Railway Colonies in India

John Alton Price was a Military Officer posted to Jamalpur in Our tent (All photos by the author)
1942.
Four of us shared a 1201b. tent and after erecting same in the
When quite a child in India I had gathered, from the odd word late evening we turned in to sleep as we were shattered. The
I happened to overhear, or the odd attitude one observed ground was to be our resting place for a time until wire framed
when the subject of Railways was mentioned there seemed beds were received.
to be an antipathy towards ‘those Railway people’. I found
this somewhat mysterious and puzzling: however, not being Of course, the inevitable happened: a storm hit us on the first
in contact with any of the Railway Colony; they lived in the night and we were nearly washed away. We hadn’t had the
extreme north of Delhi and we were housed in the south or energy to dig a trench around the tent; this being the most
‘Posh’ area as some saw it. I also remember being told to stay important procedure after the erection of a tent. I remember
clear of the area where they lived. This rather upset me and I waking, and with disbelief seeing ‘Taffy’ suspended against
thought the attitude was somewhat curious, not to say unfair. a tent wall which he was trying to hold in place! However,
I found out as I grew older and a bit more knowledgeable that we dried out the next day. Our task at this scrub jungle site
the Railway people were considered a bit ‘Racy’ and not quite
up to the mark or shall we say a bit common. In much later
days I was to discover for myself that these opinions were
positively unfair and rather, or downright ignorant. I had in
my ‘growing up’ days had very little contact with railway
people in India, except for the occasional meeting through rail
travel. During my service in the Military I was to be Posted to
a quite important Railway Station called Jamalpur, in Bihar. It
was early May 1942 and our Unit was transported to a wooded
area to set up Camp.

was to build roads and erect accommodation for Stores; and Reminiscences  103 
Ammunition would be placed in the forested hill area, with the
help of local native labour. to my School, but very much earlier. I also met another Railway
Engineer whose brother I knew from Bombay.

Invitations to Dinner were given and I was to meet their
families at a later date. We were all informed that we would be
Honorary members of the Institute and were to come and go,

Forest Camp Sunday walk in the woods

We were encamped about four to five miles from the town so when and as we pleased. In the following eight or nine months,
going into town was quite a long walk. Part of the way, about the building of our Field Depot progressed. In the meantime,
a mile or so was provided with a railway line and if the hand we had to abandon the original site because of its unsuitability
operated Trolly was at the right end of the track we could take in the Monsoon. Apart from the danger of, and the fear of
an enjoyable ride. A Message had been received by our Colonel flooding, the scrub and forest was the home of many Scorpions
that his Unit would be welcome to visit the Jamalpur Railway and Snakes. It was while we were in this jungle camp site that
Institute; this was looked forward to with anticipation. Arriving one of our boys died of Heat Stroke. The Doctor attending him
at the Institute we converged on the Billiards Room and Bar to was very upset: as he explained that if sufficient Ice could be
introduce ourselves. We were made most welcome and on my
part, almost right away I met a chap called Lawson who went

104  JAMALPUR: The Town the British Built Philippinos; very nice people. These dances were well attended
and we found the company most friendly and agreeable. We
had (we had none and the vehicle bringing a supply from the were given invitations to Dinner and made many friends here.
town arrived too late) he would have saved Woodford’s life. One of our chaps even married into the community and I was
Rapid arrangements had to be made for a funeral which was later, many years later to meet him in my local Library in
performed the next day. I was one of the Pallbearers. At least London. Of course, we got together on occasions to reminisce
the lad was given a splendid Military Burial. with him and his wife. I, through an old-school member (who I
have already mentioned) was introduced to several members of
I was rather disappointed to leave the wildness of this scrub the Railway Colony. I got to like the people and always received
jungle because the hills made fine walking country and there friendly treatment. I was fortunate even to get on closer terms
were one or two villages, not far away which were inhabited by with a very lovely blond girl (who had recently come down
Tribal people; very shy at our approach but quite harmless and from her school in the Hills) I was to meet Pamela in Calcutta a
it was interesting to observe in their primitive way of life. A few years later where she was training to become a nurse.
Headquarters was built near the town and Stores were housed
in an area at the south outskirts near a railway line. Work I was to discover that Jamalpur had the third largest Railway
was fairly hectic through the humid hot (up to 113F at times) Workshop in the World (or so I was told) and was responsible
Summer as supplies were urgently needed in Assam for the for the training of Railway Engineers who came to the
Burma Campaign. A number of us suffered from Prickly Heat Workshops after they had passed out of their particular schools
rashes and sores in other parts, that is, mainly in the ‘Crutch’ of academia. Consequently, most male members of the town
area. Calamine lotion was liberally used! Our spare time was were Railway Engineers of one kind or another, however high
fully used with various diversions; for example, football. Three or low in status, I found them most agreeable. I was never able
of our Unit were invited to play for the Railway Institute team to have a guided tour of the workshops but I’m sure the inner
in an annual tournament. Fancy playing games in these hot and workings of the railway would have been interesting. In the
humid conditions, we must have needed our brains examining. front of the Workshop buildings, on a three-foot-high pedestal
But we were very young and could take a lot of punishment! It was placed a Locomotive which happened to be the first Engine
was a bit cooler in the late evening when we played. to ride the rails of The East Indian Railways. I have a photo
of the beautiful machine. The European Railway Institute (the
The Railway Institute was a ‘Godsend’ and we were to Indians had their own Institute) was a fairly comprehensive
discover its joys quite soon. On Saturdays, a dance was held.
The Musicians who entertained us were a small family of

Club of a good standard. The facilities were: Swimming Pool Reminiscences  105 
and Tennis Courts and some Courts for Badminton. Inside the
Club was a good size Hall used as a Cinema and on Dance everyone to carry canes) it was despatched. The snake was a
nights the chairs were cleared to the sides and some tables set Banded Krait and I took it back to Camp and laid it out on a
up. Also ‘Housie Housie’ (Bingo) and Whist games were also table for the night, meaning to remove its skin the next day.
played here. Next to this was a very well furnished ‘Cocktail’ The next morning, I was not very popular because a couple of
Bar for the Ladies … or anyone for that matter. Through to our tent mates were not able to sleep!
a Library and Reading room. The Billiards room also had its
own Bar, all the necessary Wash rooms and Lavatory’s were Our working life at Jamalpur was quite hectic. Some civilian
included in the building. Many happy hours were spent at this girls were taken on to work as office clerks; this did make
Institute and many friends made. There was just one snag and working hours more pleasant. Our spare time was well
that was the long walk back to the original Camp. One night employed and enjoyed due in very big part to the way we were
my torch picked out a snake, which one of us almost trod on. accepted and entertained by the civil population and of course
It was curled up between one of the railway sleepers on the the many facilities the Railway Institute provided. My eight
line. Of course, on our approach it was on the attack so with a months in Jamalpur were happy and will always remain in my
swipe from the cane I was carrying (our Camp Orders advised memories with fond feelings. In retrospect, I can honestly say
that I found the Railway Community people most interesting
and pleasurable to meet and socialise with.

Maureen Young: Fun-filled social life in Jamalpur

Maureen Young spent her childhood and teens during 1940s in Jamalpur. servicemen, who were stationed at the Military Camp in
Now she lives in Sydney. Jamalpur, would visit us at our home, and whistle the tunes!
We would also listen to the Hit Parade on the Radio which kept
As a young teenager living in Jamalpur, my days were spent us informed of the best loved songs. I guess our home to the
visiting with families I had grown up with. Playing badminton servicemen at the time was so important when they were away
was a regular activity which I loved, along with picnics at the from theirs. Incidentally, the last of these servicemen we knew
Happy Valley. Bike riding was something I enjoyed very much passed away last year in the UK, at the age of 102 years!
and was necessary to be able to get to places, as not many
families owned a car – there was little need for one though, I also spent time on the Maidan socializing with friends and
with only short distances to cover. just enjoying our school holidays after nine months spent away
from HOME!
Afternoons and evenings were spent listening to long-playing
records played on a portable gramophone, but sometimes on One of the things we enjoyed at the Institute was watching
a piano as well. I learnt piano at school and when the YWCA movies - we called them “Pictures” then. However, these were
was open, I would use the piano there to practice, playing a treat and not an everyday event, as my father was the man
the popular songs of the WW2 era. These I heard when the who stood at the door collecting the tickets and knew exactly
how many times I had been there!

Dances were also held at the Institute, and we danced the
night away under the supervision of parents, who were also
present not only for their own enjoyment, but also to keep an
eye on their daughters!  The dances were such fun to attend
– the music was supplied by a band of musicians known as
the Evangelista family, which had come to India from the
Philippines to entertain the troops, and to establish itself as a

working Band. Most of them played an instrument with the Reminiscences  107 
father conducting, and mother and daughters singing.  This
family lived in Jamalpur near Nayagaon and travelled to a concreted area where we children would roller-skate to our
other Railway towns to entertain as well. hearts content!!

Another feature of the Institute was a Lending Library, and at Oh, such wonderful memories!
one time my dear old Grandfather was the Librarian, a strict
one at that, with an eye for anyone damaging a book! Other I do remember fireworks too at Christmas time. We would
features were a Billiards Room with a Bar of course, and throw bangers against a ball which created a loud bang – my
“Housie,” which was one of the games that were played. brothers loved this one!

On Christmas eve, a party was held for all Jamalpurians who At Diwali when I was there, small lamps would adorn the roofs
cared to attend. There were games on the lawns for the children, of buildings and look so pretty, and our servants would bring
and a Band played in the Bandstand providing a festive spirit. us small sugar sweets in the shape of animals.
As a small child, I remember long tables with crepe paper on
them and plates of cakes and sweets.  Everyone received an Who could forget the “KHOIE” bag that was suspended from
orange too along with a small toy of sorts. Towards the close of the ceiling of whichever place we were at. Once it was broken,
the afternoon we gathered inside the main hall of the building puffed rice rained down along with small toys and wrapped
and were given one present from Father Christmas with our sweets, and it was such fun slipping and sliding on polished
name on it. floors whilst gathering up these treasures!

My younger brother once remonstrated that he was under the These are some of the things my mind conjures up now and
impression he would get something other than what he got delights me. As I write this, I remember the social life of a very
and consequently my parent had to tell him a mistake had been special town I once called “HOME” - JAMALPUR.
made to quieten him down!!

In the grounds of the Institute, there was a public Swimming
Pool too, where on one occasion I had to be rescued ~ !  Also,

Yvonne Hussein Le Fort: I think of Jamalpur …

Yvonne (b 1933) spent her childhood years in Jamalpur during 1930s and Valley…and somewhere not that far away (at Monghyr) we
40s. She now lives in Ontario, Canada. went to hot springs near the river that had alligators in it … we
were not allowed to go swimming in it. 
I do not think of Jamalpur as a city. I think of it as a railway
colony … bungalow dwellings …and Happy Valley was the I am talking about 70 plus years ago when I was eight years,
place for picnics and group outings. No tall buildings like Notre going on to nine, in 1942. I went away to school from March
Dame School that we see in current pictures. The offices of the to December each year, till June 1947. The holidays through
EIR Works, directly across 14 Victoria Road where we lived, December focused on Christmas festivities and the New Year’s
were not more than two storeys high, if my memory serves me Ball. New party dresses being sewn on the verandah by the
right. darzi sitting cross-legged on the floor using our Singer sewing
machine, later on elevated to a wooden table with wrought iron
I used to attend Oak Grove Girls School, over 6000′ above support and a rocking treadle to drive the needle.
sea level, at Jharipani, Mussoorie and return to Jamalpur for
holiday periods. There was no mountain in Jamalpur … only I was thirteen for my first New Year’s Eve Ball in December
rolling hills at Happy 1946 ushering in an eventful 1947. Such a grown up feeling to be
going to that dance with my parents! Previously I had watched
my diminutive mother dress in pretty long florals, made the
same way by the tailor, for weekly dances. Our ayah would lay
out two outfits across the double bed, complete with accessories
and shoes to match. My dad was given the same treatment
for his choice of sartorial splendour, for any social event. The
dhobi lived in the outhouse at the back of the compound, sitting
near the coal embers just outside his abode, anytime a garment
needed the touch of a hot flatiron. The sleepy donkey was tied
to the papaya tree. Cow-patties drying on the side wall of the

godown (outhouse). My dad’s 1933 Harley Davidson “Indian” Reminiscences  109 
was stored in the room next to the dhobi’s room, but not used
anymore in the forties. barefooted in the grass, nary a thought of red ants or snakes.
Deadly nightshade blooms spread beautiful perfume in the
Socially, almost every evening was lively with bingo or bridge night air as the fireflies flitted around us adding to the galaxy
or whist game, or movie night, or tennis/badminton or golf of stars that spread overhead in the damp evening breezes after
and swimming tournaments. Saturday night dances were with a rainy downpour and the frogs croaked and the crickets filled
live orchestra and vocalist playing/singing popular hits of the air with their chirping.
the big band war era. Glenn Miller’s IN THE MOOD …and
STARDUST AND MOONLIGHT SERENADE are iconic music I’ve never written this before! It is buried in my psyche as
still evoking memories of those years for me. This was a great a very special memory. India was chugging relentlessly
place for the young men from the institute to meet the pretty forward towards independence with images of Gandhi and
young daughters of families attending the dances. Nehru and Jinnah and Mountbatten and his wife Edwina
(to be revealed later in a romantic alliance with the brilliant
Then there were times for entertaining visitors at home in the English-educated Nehru), in The Statesman every day. Photos
garden on evenings that stretched into the dark with a sky of abandoned bullock carts strewn with malodorous, fly-
peppered with stars overhead. Lots of spicy finger foods on infested decomposing bodies spread across them in the heat
demand from the bawarchi in the kitchen were served by the of the sun for three days when nobody emerged from their
white-clad, and very respectful, turbaned bearer. An assortment homes after a riot in cities like Calcutta or Delhi or Bombay.
of spicy chanas to go along with Indian beer and shandies and Those riots happened in Jamalpur’s marketplace, but slaughter
gingerales and scarlet Vimto drinks plus delectable sweets never approached the railway works and its employees to my
like rasgollas, gulab jamoons and jelabis and yummy barfi. knowledge. Fear permeated the atmosphere for many, I know;
Sometimes kulfi too … we were one of the first families to have my mother described nights of dread after hearing the noise of a
a Frigidaire standing in our dining room … kitchen was not big riot subside in the middle of the night; would “they” be coming
enough for it!! across the tracks to attack the people in their beds? Children
were removed from the strife by sending them to the boarding
Youngsters played hide and seek around the spacious, well- schools in the hills but we saw the headlined photos in The
tended compound, amazingly (so it appears to me now) Statesman while up there. Does that newspaper still exist?

(This was written and posted in thejamalpur.com in 2014)

110  JAMALPUR: The Town the British Built The Christmas Day Badminton Party at 11 Queen’s Road
Photo courtesy: Yvonne Hussein Le Fort
Christmas Day, 1941

Dec 25, 1941. Christmas Day Badminton Party with court
chalked out on the green grass seen in the picture of 11 Queen’s
Road. This was the wonderful social life we lead while a global
war raged and Gandhiji moved India relentlessly towards
Independence from the British Raj. I am the young girl in white
skirt at extreme right of this image with a joyful memory of
family and friends gathered together to celebrate the season
with abundant food and beverages waiting to be consumed
before and after the friendly tournament. It was a truly special
era, not without its problems related to political unrest but I am
eight years of age in this photo. We were packed off to boarding
school, my sister Marina just seven here, and I three months
later in March 1942 with some intent to shield us children from
the brewing unrest. Our childhood memories are necessarily
happy ones because of that, without denigrating the difficulties
many people were experiencing. Jamalpur was a railway
colony something like 300 miles from Calcutta. The major strife
and escalating slaughter took place in cities like Calcutta and
Delhi and Bombay.

M Shanta Murthy: Jamalpur at the turn of Partition

Mrs M Shanta Murthy spent her teens in Jamalpur during 1940s and no Hindi or English medium Middle school for girls then in
now lives in Mumbai. Jamalpur. There was only a Bengali Gaurang Patshala. Like
my younger sister Vatsala and myself, there were several other
I was just ten when my father, known among his Railway girls among the families of Railway staff, who could not pursue
colleagues as G N R Rau, was transferred from Lucknow studies due to lack of a school. When father broached this to Mr
to Jamalpur in 1943. Initially we stayed with an uncle, P V A H Lal, a big Railway contractor, who also owned the Avantika
Narasimaiah - also an Eastern Railway employee - who had Cinema Hall in Jamalpur, he agreed to fund a Middle school.
a large quarter on the Gloucester Road in East Colony. When The A H Lal Middle School was soon started which was tagged
uncle was transferred out of Jamalpur the following year, father to the Gaurang Patshala and shared its resources. I joined in
was allotted a quarter in Rampur Colony. Many years later, in Class VI and Vatsala in Class V.
1948 or 49 we returned to Gloucester Road when father was
allotted Bungalow No.2. Once I passed out from the Middle School, lack of a High
School for girls again became an issue. Under the initiative of a
I have very happy memories of my years in Jamalpur, though Railway Officer, Mr Batabial (called ‘Bat and Ball’ by his friends,
they were troubled times for the nation. I spent my teen years in lighter vein!), the N C Ghosh Girls High School was started.
there and left the place after my marriage in 1951. There was I was in the first batch of around twenty girls in this school. To
hasten up on my education which was already delayed, I took
private coaching and appeared for Matriculation examination
(Class XI) as a private candidate through this school and passed.
A few years later the Notre Dame Academy was established
by a few American Nuns that emerged as a prestigious school
for boys and girls not just in Jamalpur but the entire region.
With these efforts, the major lacuna of lack of schools for girls
in Jamalpur was overcome.

1940s were politically surcharged all over the country, as India
headed towards its Independence. Due to the rigid stand taken

112  JAMALPUR: The Town the British Built where we lived. After dusk, women and children of several
houses would be shifted to one house where they spent the
N C Ghosh Girls High School. Photo by Dhanesh K Mishra night huddled together, while the able-bodied men, equipped
by the Muslim League on dividing India into two States, with lathis, carried out night patrols until dawn. There were
much acrimony was generated and there were communal half a dozen such houses where the families were squeezed
riots everywhere between Hindus and Muslims. Despite a in and required guard. Villagers of the nearby Rampur village
large Muslim population in Monghyr, and many Muslims were requested to be ready to rush to the Railway colony in
working in the Workshops, Jamalpur had always remained a case of any emergency, when an alarm would be raised by
peaceful place where people from all regions and communities loudly clanging metal thalis.
of the country lived amicably. However, under the political
compulsions prior to Partition, trust between Hindus and Under this general atmosphere of tension, unfortunately a
Muslims in Jamalpur lay shattered. There were many instances Muslim boy, who had scaled a mosque in Sadar Bazar, slipped
of communal atrocities, particularly during night times. This and fell to his death. This sparked rumours that Hindus had
gave rise to rumours and panic among people. Though the East caused his death, generating a fresh round of tension. In
Colony where the British and Anglo Indians lived remained Rampur Colony, a Muslim youth was caught under suspicious
trouble-free, extra vigil was necessitated in Rampur Colony circumstances. However, he was let off by the police saying
he appeared mentally deranged. The Hindus suspected he was
sent as a spy to find out precautionary measures taken in the
colony.

Incidentally, my brother, Surya (author of this book) was born
in Rampur colony, during such a communally charged time
prior to Independence. Mother went into labour one day after
dusk and father was on patrol duty, along with a few others,
that night. He would peep through the window, whenever
he passed the house, to enquire. Mother was delivered of the
child, with the help of a midwife, at early dawn.

Immediately after this, a carnage broke out at Noakhali in
Chittagong Division of East Bengal (now Bangladesh). A series

of massacres, rapes, abductions and forced conversions of Reminiscences  113 
Hindus took place. This had repercussions in the entire East
with fresh rounds of hostilities between the two communities. Indian families left for UK, Australia, Canada and some even to
Monghyr and Jamalpur could not remain unaffected. the West Indies.
Mahatma Gandhi had camped in Noakhali for 4 months to
bring the situation under control. He extensively toured the Partition led to migration of millions of people across the newly
region calming tempers and building bridges between the two created frontiers in Punjab and Bengal. This was the largest
communities. He conducted a prayer meeting in Monghyr human migration in history. There was a big influx of refugees
and visited Jamalpur too. I happened to stand, along with into Jamalpur. Refugee camps were set up in Rampur colony.
my school friends, on the railway badi pul through which his Many Punjabis and Bengalis had come when the word spread
vehicle passed. that the large Railway Workshop would absorb some refugees.
Father, who was in the Personnel department, was entrusted
The dawn of Independence in 1947 brought a surging new with the task of screening people and recruiting them. He
hope and enthusiasm among people. We youngsters were all would tell us that since refugees had to leave everything behind
charged up with patriotic fervour. ‘Prabhat pheries’ would be and run for their lives, none had any certificates or documents.
conducted early in the mornings in the colonies and prayer He just recorded whatever they told him about their age and
meetings held in the evenings. Father would encourage us to personal details, and went about his job. He worked very hard
sing Gandhiji’s favourite bhajans ‘Raghupati Raghav Rajaram’ during this period and returned home late regularly. He was
and ‘Vaishnavajan toh tene kahiye’ at home every evening. rewarded for this work later through a promotion.
Vatsala and I would render these bhajans at other gatherings
as well. The entire nation was shocked when Gandhiji was An incident stands out in my memory of this period. Father
assassinated in January 1948. We all broke down and parents would walk all the way from our residence in Rampur colony
took bath on hearing the news, a ritual usually reserved for to the workshop, along with a neighbour, a Bengali gentleman
close family members who pass away. by the name of Mr Anil Biswas. As the situation was still tense
communally, walking alone was avoided. A Muslim worker in
The British and Anglo-Indian families of Jamalpur had started the workshop used to meet father seeking a job for a refugee
relocating to other countries even before Independence. This whom he knew. As father would be busy and not always
exodus gathered momentum after Independence. Many Anglo- available at his desk, this gentleman had to frequently visit
the department looking for father. Mr Biswas suspected his
intention and this led to an argument one day. That Muslim

114  JAMALPUR: The Town the British Built There were a dozen Andhra families and several apprentices
living in Jamalpur then. Father brought all these people
worker was physically pushed out of the room. Smarting under together and started an Andhra Association. There would be
this, he waited in a dark stretch of the road late that evening an annual get-together of all the members, mostly at our place.
when father was returning home, accompanied by Mr Biswas. Occasionally, picnics were organised on the Kali Pahad (an
He had a few others with him. The goons hit Mr Biswas with area called Happy Valley by some). Once we went on a cruise
lathis on his head and fled, leaving him bleeding and sprawled on the Ganges in Monghyr. We used to look forward to such
on the road. With the help of a few other workers passing by, social occasions.
father called up an ambulance from the Railway Hospital in Though I left Jamalpur after my marriage more than 65 years
East colony and shifted Mr Biswas there. Several stitches were ago, my memories of the place and events are still very fresh. I
put on the severe wounds he had sustained. He was advised get nostalgic when I think of those wonderful years.
rest in the hospital for a couple of days. Father was unusually
late in returning home that day and we were all very anxious. Andhra Association gathering at our house on
Soon after he reached home, he asked me to accompany him Gloucester Road. Photo courtesy: Author
to Mr Biswas’s residence. Mr Biswas’s parents and wife could
converse only in Bangla. As father did not know this language,
I had to narrate to them what had happened, in whatever
little Bengali I knew They wanted to rush to the hospital but
organising transport at that late hour from Rampur colony was
not possible. Father asked them not to panic as Mr Biswas was
stable and recovering; he advised them that they could go the
next morning. In fact father did not know who had attacked
Mr Biswas and why. In those communally troubled times,
anything was possible. Later when Mr Biswas narrated the
fracas that had happened in the office that day, father showed
his displeasure at his rashness in handling the matter. As the
attackers could not be identified no police complaint could be
registered. I remember father as a very secular and principled
person who did not differentiate between people of different
communities or castes. He was much respected in the workshop
for that. His values have guided us in our lives.

Noel Thomas: Down Memory Lane The 1958 SCRA batch were undergoing basic training in the
same period. Our “initiation” was over, but theirs’ was still on.
Noel Thomas was 1958 batch Apprentice Mechanic in Jamalpur. Having I was surprised when an SCRA introduced himself to me and
retired from Visakapatnam, he has settled down there. accompanied me all the way to the hostel, came in for a cup of
tea and a few minutes of relaxation in the dorm.
In October ‘58, I had my first encounter with Jamalpur. it
was a lovely anachronistic experience for an 18-year old, Hostel life (1958-62) was enjoyable. On a monthly stipend of
relocating from home to a promising new haven. The well- Rs 110, we had Saturday Special dinners and along with our
groomed railway colony was a reassuring sight. What if the Rampur hostel mates, we were 200 or so, ruling the roostin
roads had royal names? Wouldn’t it help to preserve their Jmp. Gymkhana, home of the SCRAs, was a posh place, in a
historical grandeur? Nothing wrong about maintaining “royal” lovely green location, far from the madding crowd. It was here
standards. Spending 5 years here seemed an exciting prospect! that Debashis Ray pursued his his favourite past-time of bird
My welcome to Queens Road hostel was more rustic than watching and also perfected the art of snake catching. In ’75-
royal. “Initiation” was the great leveller, the special glue for ’76, he was DME(D) Patratu, a snake infested place. Whenever
the unbreakable Jamalpur bond. It broke barriers within and a snake was sighted, it was “DME Sahib ko bulao!” The DME
sometimes beyond the hostel walls. came, and using a rag and a stick, caught the snake, held it by
the tail, twirled it around and flung it far away in discus style.
He then educated the gathering about the snake.

Jamalpur took pride in its sports. It was the old EIR’s nursery
of sports, producing some famous sportsmen, viz. hockey
Olympian, Dicky Carr and his brother, champion boxer Laurie
Carr, who retired as Gymkhana Hostel Supdt. Gymkhana had
an invincible cricket team and excelled in hockey as well. Our
team, AEC, were Jamalpur Hockey Champs from ’60 to ’62.

116  JAMALPUR: The Town the British Built every time we fielded second. Our bad fielding was the result
of gormandizing at the sumptuous, delectable lunch, which our
Queen’s Road Hostel. Photo credit: thejamalpur.com hosts served in between innings, but there were other factors
Jamalpur entered in the prestigious Beighton Cup as well. as well. I asked team mate Randy Baker how he managed to
Reporting on the B Cup encounter between JMP and Mohun drop a “dolly.” He confessed taking his eyes off the ball to stare
Bagan (60s), The Statesman wrote, “Had it not been for at a “living doll” strolling along the boundary. The PT factory
Chakravarty’s plucky performance under the bar, Mohun colony was like a fairy land. Some of our hostel mates met their
Bagan may have scored a dozen, instead of just half a dozen life partners in girls who worked in the factory.
goals.” SCRA Amitabh Chakravarty was the Jamalpur
goalkeeper. App Mech ‘56 batch, Terence Joseph, lost an eye The Central Institute was a quality entertainment centre,
playing in the Kaivan Cup at Calcutta. well equipped with swimming pool, dance hall, auditorium,
Many Jamalpurians learned to play golf, utilising JMP’s well stage, billiard table and a well-stocked bar. Good English films
maintained gold course, some of them earning the Indian were projected on a regular basis (National Institute screened
Railways blazer. Mechanical Sports Club, comprising mostly Hindi movies). The CI staged some good English plays too.
of artisan staff were the soccer champions. We looked forward One was “The Merchant of Venice” by the famous Kendall
to playing cricket at the PT factory ground in Monghyr but lost Shakespearana Troupe, with the young Shashi Kapoor and
wife Jennifer on stage. We were thrilled to get a closer view of
Shashi in the billiard room. The billiard marker cum barman
was Francis, a genial old soul. The cry of “Francis, ek bada rum
lao!” must ring in many an ear as it still does in mine.

Jamalpur Workshop was always full of busy sounds. It was
known for its workmanship and work ethic. I recall the full-
length mirror placed above the attendance desk and the
question “Am I correctly dressed?” in bold letters on top. This
was DyCME Satish Misra’s idea. He was a strict disciplinarian,
an imposing leonine figure as he strode majestically on his
workshop rounds. He was also a fitness freak and an excellent
sportsman.

There were some lighter moments, AFO Samuels asking AFO Reminiscences  117 
G. G. Bull at Gate No. 1, “Is it a bull or a cow?” (Mrs Bull had
delivered a baby that morning). Mr Bull’s reply was drowned The Shakespearana troupe stayed at the Jamalpur Gymkhana.
in the spontaneous chorus of congratulations that followed. Jennifer (bottom row, left) and Shashi Kapoor (top row, right) and

The Jamalpur Technical School (now IRIMEE) was renowned other members of the troupe with the SCRAs.
throughout the Indian Rlys as well as in the public and private Photo courtesy: Mr Nagarajan (SCRA)
sectors. I came back to JMP in 1977 on deputation. I returned
again in ’95 for a course in IRIMEE. I stayed in Yantrik Nivas,
built on what was once the bowling green. My youngest
daughter was born in JMP. She would like to revisit her
birthplace. Her elder sister wants to see her first school, Notre
Dame Academy again. I would like to go back too, just once
more. Jamalpur will remain indelibly marked in our memories.
All said and done, isn’t a birthday an auspicious event, a time
to reflect and fortify with precious memories, time to soldier
on? Perhaps the best is yet to come. Jamalpur has lived for a
century and a half. Wow! Happy birthday old girl!

(This article was published in “150 Years of Locomotive Works,
Jamalpur 1862-2012” A K Sinha)

Debashish Ray: Robberies and Night Patrolling

Debashish Ray is ex CME, EIR. had decided to give one bungalow, at the end of the colony, to
the police for use as a thana. I pointed out that the police had
It was an unusual notice from the Workshop that intrigued me. not been able to stop serial robberies on the Durga Das Tulsi
The WPO, B B Roy had invited all Supervisors to a meeting in Road where they already had a thana. In addition, that there
the Central Institute to discuss opening of police outpost in the had been a robbery in a house adjacent to the police thana on
Jamalpur colony. That sounded odd! The administration never Safiasarai on the road to Monghyr. Providing a thana inside the
called the ‘aam janta’ for discussion before taking a decision, colony would not help improve law and order and the residents
that too in the informal atmosphere of the Institute; so why would lose a quarter for which there was a long waiting line.
now? Therefore, I decided to attend the meeting that evening, That made the administration quite uncomfortable, but the fifty
even if uninvited. Things had gone very wrong in the railway odd supervisors present got the point.
colony in the preceding months after the blinding of criminals
at Bhagalpur caught headlines in the national press. The police, Nevertheless, one quarter was given for a Thana. In the
normally ineffectual as it was, had thrown up its hands and meanwhile, the colony residents, fed up with the lawlessness,
stopped taking interest in law and order. This had affected elected a ‘colony security committee’ with your truly in lead
the whole area and to the normally peaceful and law-abiding and E T Daniel as secretary. We did not do much., except make
residents of Jamalpur, it came as a shock. forays on cycles, in the middle of the night, especially around
the moonless nights.
Almost every week there was an attempted theft in the colony.
About once a month, somebody’s house would be burgled. It was on one such night, when we decided to skip because
People would come knocking on doors of the isolated quarters of personal issues, that all hell broke loose. Ram Babu was a
and not answer the anxious queries of residents behind locked well-respected AWM, and his newly married daughter had just
doors. Things had got so bad that one could not get a colony returned to her father’s place just behind the Night College.
resident to open his doors after dark unless they recognised That night the house was attacked by robbers. Ram Babu was shot
your name or voice. and killed, and both his sons were shot in the abdomen, trying to
protect their father. They survived only by the prompt action of
This was the background for the meeting in the Central their neighbours and the doctors in the hospital close by.
Institute. The WPO announced that the shop administration

This was the last straw. The colony residents could take no Reminiscences  119 
more. Work in the Workshop ground to a halt. Two days later
M K Khosla, the CME paid an emergency visit to Jamalpur to with a jeep and RPF escort to help patrol the colony at night.
calm matters. After visiting the house and giving instructions He did not appreciate my role in all this, as I was to learn at my
for repair to the ATE, he had a meeting in the workshop meeting cost a few years later!
room with the unions, supervisors’ association and lastly the
colony security committee. Daniel drew up a list of colony residents, apprentices from both
hostels and some officers, two of whom would come and spend
During the meeting, each group asked for a supervisor named a night patrolling the colony in the jeep with escort. Volunteers
Devanandan to be transferred out as he was suspected to be would spend one night on this duty, once in about forty days.
receiving stolen goods and supporting the lawlessness. The
CME turned down their request saying that he could not We had reasoned that though theft and robbery could take
transfer people just on people’s say. Finally, it was our turn to place in the quiet of the bungalows, the stolen goods would
speak. have to be carried along the roads of the colony. There they
had a fair chance of being spotted by the patrolling jeep whose
We brought up the spate of burglaries that had preceded the route was unpredictable, as it was entirely at the discretion of
robbery, and how the Notre Dame, ATE Chain Singh’s house, the volunteers on duty each night.
and that of PS to CWM, had all been burgled. We brought up
how the daughter of the PS recognised another girl wearing her The system of night patrolling continued for a year and a half.
stolen pullover. How the father then went with the local police As long as it continued, there were no thefts or even attempts
to the second girl’s house. There they found the sewing machine inside the railway colony. Then, as it happens in all voluntary
stolen from the school, the Delhi school blazers belonging to activity, once the pressing need was over, people started taking
Chain Singh’s nephews and twenty-eight women’s purses and it easy and skipping allocated duties. We finally closed the
some dynamite sticks stored in the outhouse. That house was night patrols after it became unsustainable, but by then some
allotted to an Asst Supdt in the Welding Shop and that is why normalcy had returned to the colony.
we sought his transfer.
(Published as ‘Jamalpur after the Bhagalpur Blindings, circa 80-
Reluctantly, the CME then agreed to transfer the person, and 81’ in “150 Years of Locomotive Works, Jamalpur 1862-2012”)
gave instructions for the security committee to be provided

Madan Thakur: Changing Times In Jamalpur, thatched houses are rare but no straw-covered
houses exist anymore. Pucca buildings have come up in place
Madan Thakur, an Engineer, is from Jamalpur. After retiring as Deputy of these houses, with lanes and narrow roads made of concrete
Divisional Manager from Tata Steels, he has settled down in Jamshedpur. cast. Banks and shops have grown like mushroom.
Jamalpur town is named after Mohd. Jamal, whose graveyard
still reminds us of the glorious past of the small but beautiful Vegetable market place, Avantika and Railway cinema have
village adjacent to the District town of Munger (earlier referred all become skeleton structures now. The green fields of paddy,
as Monghyr) situated on the bank of holy Ganga. There is a wheat and vegetables surrounding the town earlier have
place in Munger known as Karna Chourah, where Raja Karna vanished. There is appreciable change at the Railway Station.
of Mahabharata used to give ‘daan’ (alms) to people as per As we exit from the station, we can see space for vehicle parking
their wish. In the days of the rule of Nawabs of Bengal, Mir and other amenities. Auto-rickshaws have replaced the earlier
Qasim renovated the fort here which is known as Mir Qasim Tongas (horse buggies). One can still find many manually-
ka kila. This is still standing tall on the bank of the river. Now, driven rickshaws.
the International School of Yoga is situated inside the fort area,
which is famous world-wide and is visited by many Indians Walking over the two railway bridges and through the hill
and foreigners for upkeep of their health and spirituality tunnel, we feel as if time has stood still. However, there are
through Yoga. several other developments indicating that much has changed.
No longer can we find Majid’s large bakery on DD Tulsi Road.
A new colony has come up in its place. Even Hiralal’s sweet
shop on the Albert Road no longer exists. Hill region on the
eastern side of the town has seen good development. Railways
have set up a Diesel Loco Shed there to cater to the needs of
repair and overhauling of diesel locomotives. Besides this, the
foot of the hill has become a stone-cutting and chipping factory.
Territorial Army Camp, Golf Club, lake and ponds, water
filter plant have been existing in the nearby vicinity since our
childhood days and, by and large, remain same.

The Police have strengthened their presence by upgrading Reminiscences  121 
T.O.P at the East Colony, to have better control on law and
order. we had a wonderful time playing and studying. I remember
getting up early by 5 am and walking up the steps to the top
One significant development can be seen when we travel by of Kali Pahad every day, along with a few friends. That helped
road from Lakhisarai to Bhagalpur. A by-pass road has been me maintain a robust health.
constructed via Safiabad to shorten the distance by 15 km to
reach Bariarpur from Surajgarh. The Railway Station with parking lot. Credit – thejamalpur.com

I still remember the bungalows in East Colony where the British Football match at the JSA ground.
families used to live. I was very young then, but admired the Credit- thejamalpur.wordpress.com
well-maintained gardens full of flowers in those bungalows.
The British certainly had a penchant to live in nice ambience.
They had converted the huge maidan into a golf course where
they played regularly.

I used to be a good football player and enjoyed watching the
Inter-Divisional Railway tournaments held at JSA every year. I
had the privilege of seeing many good players come and play
in these tournaments. I saw Mewalal, P K Banerjee, Chumi
Goswami and Arun Ghosh play in JSA ground. All of them
worked for the Eastern Railway and went on to become major
national stars in later years.

I look back at my boyhood years with much happiness. Bodipara
(or Baidya-para) where I lived was originally a settlement of
Bengalis. Nayagoan and Mungraura villages perhaps existed
even before the British established the Workshop. Jamalpur did
not lack in provisions and we had everything. As youngsters,

GSP Rao: Thrills of boyhood in Jamalpur Mixed Primary School. Miss Martin was our Head Mistress.
Slender in build, she had a shrill voice that was effectively
Author of this book, G S P Rao was born in Jamalpur and spent his used to discipline all of us. Most of the teachers were matronly
boyhood years there. He now lives in Hyderabad. Anglo-Indian ladies, including Mrs White and Mrs Vaugh.
Strong scent of perfumes emanated from them and I would
I was born in Railway Quarters of Rampur Colony in Jamalpur, love to be close to them to whiff this altogether agreeable smell.
immediately prior to Indian Independence, during the peak
of Hindu-Muslim riots. My father was doing night patrolling The Padre of the Church lived nearby in a large bungalow. He
along with a few others in the colony, when my mother went had two sons, the younger being the classmate of my brother,
into labour at home and was delivered of me early in the Venkat. The elder son was Jagdish who died while swimming
morning. Within a couple of years, father was allotted a quarter at the Central Insitute. I remember attending his funeral, the
on the Gloucester Road in East Colony. My entire childhood first Christian one I went to. We stood there at the open grave
and boyhood years were spent there and I have very vivid amidst the mourners, as a priest read out some passages from
memories of that period. the Bible. After the coffin was lowered into the grave, we
The first school I attended was the Anglo-Indian Day School, followed others by picking up some earth and dropping it on
opposite St Mary’s Church on the Golf Course Road (originally the coffin. The whole atmosphere was very sad and peculiarly
the European School), which is now called the Eastern Railway disturbing.

One of the amusing events that I recollect, occurred when a
thief entered Miss Martin’s cabin and carried away something.
Soon, her shrill voice had raised enough alarm for practically
the entire school to chase the scoundrel. We blindly ran in all
directions with a strange fear in our hearts. Soon the misguided
efforts were given up and we trooped back with a feeling of
having participated in high adventure. Even though the school
days were rather monotonous, the one event that I looked

forward to was the Annual Day function in December at the Reminiscences  123 
Central Institute. The rehearsals for the variety entertainment
programme started well in advance with all the students sequence in which we were to go on the stage, and when our
marching in a file to the Institute every afternoon. turn came, would gently push us with the advice, “speak loud
and clear.” Overcoming the initial fear, we would speak out
our lines. At the first opportunity, we would start looking for

Anglo Indian Day School. St Mary’s church at back Central Institute where we performed on the Annual Day
Photo by G Ramakrishna Rao
We were rigorously trained in our roles. I used to get interesting
parts every year – as the lovelorn young man singing the the faces of our parents and siblings in that dark auditorium.
nursery rhyme, “Where are you going to my pretty maid?” (to On locating them, we would grin forgetting all that we had
the charming Catherine Jones) or the daddy bear in “Goldilocks been tutored. It was during these rehearsals that the students
and the three Bears.” were drawn closer like never. All our squabbles would be set
aside and we put our hearts into the preparations.
The flanks of the stage used to have a peculiar smell of wood
and dust. Assortment of cans and ladders would be littered Anglo Indian Day School also invokes memories of the walk
all around, and with lights put off, we feared knocking things along the Golf Course Road my brother Venkat and I had to
down in that darkness. The teachers would hold us in the take to reach the school. It would be deserted and eerie at that
hour. Midway along the route, we had to cross a tree that was

124  JAMALPUR: The Town the British Built pluck the berries and sell them in the market. They gave us
plentiful of berries whenever we wanted and we savoured
inhabited by a ghost, as the stories went. As the tree approached them till our tongues turned black.
we fell silent, held each other tight, and mumbled our prayers,
looking away from the tree. At the slightest sound of rustling Diagonally across our house stood Tulsi Villa, the abode
leaves, we would start running frantically till we were out of of Durgadas Tulsi, perhaps the richest man in town and the
breath. This was a daily torture for us. Chairman of the local Municipal body for several years at a
stretch. He had made good as a Civil Engineering contractor
The exclusive European culture of the East Colony began to for the railways. Tulsi Villa was an impressive double-storeyed
wear steadily under the changing political atmosphere of the building, coated in a pleasant yellow. In a town populated by
1940s. Increasing number of Indians were appointed to higher middle-class railway employees, the standard of living of the
echelons in the Railway Workshop. This saw more and more inhabitants of Tulsi Villa left many wide-eyed. Durgadas Tulsi
Indian families move into the East Colony. Several British and was well past his prime but still exuded the vigour of an active
Anglo-Indian families left India prior to Independence and by person. The road leading to his mansion was named after him.
mid-1950s very few of them were left in Jamalpur. Thus, the His grandsons Madhukar and Vivek (Kikoo and Micky for us)
European culture which had flourished in East Colony once, were our playmates. Tulsi Villa was a veritable treasure house
was dying a slow death during my boyhood years. for us. There was a huge wooden case overflowing with a range
of toys, guns and games that would numb our unaccustomed
Our house on the Gloucester Road was quite spacious and senses. There were several things that we had never seen
had a large compound with several fruit-bearing trees, and before – table-tennis set, badminton set, ‘mechano’ set, an
a rare cashew tree. We had all the open space that we would assortment of pistols and guns, and small bicycles. We were
have ever required to run around and play. The rich flora in also introduced to the boyhood thrills of illustrated comics
the compound provided us with adequate shade to have fun there. There was a toy car large enough for one to sit and steer
for several hours at a stretch. From the trees in the compound, it around the compound. Kikoo and Micky happily shared all
mother would get all the raw mangoes she needed for her these with us. Being in Tulsi Villa was being in a different world
annual ‘pickle making project.’ She took great interest in this altogether. Mrs Durgadas Tulsi was a nice elderly lady who
and worked zealously with the excitement of a new bride year took loving care of all of us when we were there. We would be
after year. We would eagerly hover around, lending a helping offered ‘shikanjvi’ (sherbet) and home-made ice-creams during
hand in small tasks. During the summer months, the jamun summer and hot beverages during winter. We also relished
(black-berry) trees would be laden with bountiful of berries. ‘leechis’ from their tree during the season.
These trees would be leased out to fruit sellers who would

Durgadas Tulsi’s brother-in-law, A H Lal lived in the adjacent Reminiscences  125 
building with a wicket gate in the common wall separating
the buildings. His daughter Pammy was almost our age and Mewalal, P K Banerjee and Chuni Goswami (all from the Internet)
joined us in our games. We ran and played freely in both the Chuni Goswami also represented West Bengal in Ranji Trophy
compounds. A H Lal owned Avantika Cinema Hall in Rampur. Cricket tournament, a rare feat indeed. We had the treat of
During our holidays, along with Kikoo, Micky and Pammy, watching the celebrated Mewalal play at Monghyr, when he
we would go to see movies there as ‘special guests,’ seated in was past his prime. He did thrill us with a goal scored with his
the best seats in the balcony, and treated with ice-creams and famous bicycle shot. These are unforgettable experiences.
fried groundnuts during intermissions! We would literally Like all children, we would keenly look forward to various
feel on top of the world being shown such importance. Kikoo festivals during the year. There was a belief that not eating
and Micky were later admitted to a Public School at Ranchi. ‘ber’ fruit before first offering it to Goddess Saraswati on
Thereafter, all our thrills of being at Tulsi Villa were restricted Basant Panchami, would ensure we did well in our exams. We
to holidays when they came home. faithfully observed it despite the temptations. We ran from
pandal to pandal collecting ‘battasas’ as prasad and savouring
Gymkhana was an exclusive zone where entry was restricted. them. Holi came with its own colourful charm and made us
However, one of the students there was known to the Tulsi family. impish. We would take glee in splashing colours on passers-
This enabled Kikoo, Micky and us to go there to watch cricket by, without heeding to their pleas. Sometimes this led to angry
matches between the Gymkhana team and visiting Tobacco outbursts and we would scamper. We joined the Tulsi family
Factory team from Monghyr. We would be awed by the grandeur for celebrating Lohri, the Punjabi harvest festival. Viswakarma
of the Gymkhana building and the impressive front lawn.

We also enjoyed the annual football tournaments conducted at
the JSA (Jamalpur Sports Association) stadium, when several
teams from different Railway divisions / units participated. We
were fascinated by the colourful jerseys of different teams. We
saw several good matches and players. I had the privilege of
seeing India internationals, P K Banerjee and Chuni Goswami
(both to serve as captains of Indian football teams later) play at
JSA. I think they had come to play in the railway tournaments.

126  JAMALPUR: The Town the British Built other prasad from several Bihari families. The women would
come brightly dressed with platefuls of sweets neatly covered
puja in September meant we could visit the Railway Workshop, with a cloth. They would chat with mother for some time and
thrown open to families that day. Entire workshop would be then leave. We would be impatiently waiting to relish the fresh
decorated with festoons and gave a festive atmosphere. We thekuvas!
would be given special attention, being the children of ‘Rao As a family, we would go for picnic outings atop the hills,
Saheb,’ the much revered Labour officer who looked after the near the Water Works, a place referred by many as the ‘Happy
welfare of all workmen. Chairs would be offered and ‘prasad’ Valley.’ Father would also take us to Monghyr sometimes to
profusely given to us. Durga puja was a major attraction visit the hot springs (Sita kund) and for a cruise on the Ganges.
with many idols of Durga set up across the town. We would These were very pleasurable and relaxing for the entire family.
visit as many pandals as possible and go to Sadar Bazar on Whenever I look back at those wonderful boyhood years spent
the Visarjan day to see the procession of idols being taken to in Jamalpur, all these memories come rushing and provide me
Monghyr for immersion in the Ganges. It would be jostling with immense pleasure. I fall into nostalgic bliss.
and milling crowds everywhere. Diwali, the festival of lights,
was of course very popular. It was a lot of excitement trying to Family picnic at the Happy Valley (early 1950s)
stretch the little pocket money given to us by parents, to buy as Photo credit – the Author
many crackers as possible. We would leave the crackers in the
sun during day time to remove any dampness, and impatiently
wait for dusk to set in so that we could burst them.

However, it was the local ‘Chhat parab,’ celebrated after
Diwali, that we looked forward to most keenly. There would
be unusual fervour among the Bihari families and we joined
them in their procession to the lake at the base of Kali pahad
where the women offered prayers, standing hip-deep in water,
as the Sun set. Earthen diyas would be lit and set afloat along
with flowers. This ritual was repeated the next morning at
sunrise. After that ‘thekuvas’ – a sweet made of flour, maize,
ghee and jiggery, the speciality of Chhat - would be distributed
among known families. We would receive these thekuvas and

Deepak Sapra: Life at Jamalpur Gymkhana

Deepak Sapra was a SCRA at Jamalpur Gymkhana from 1993 to do you do there,” “What kind of facilities does Gymkhana
1997. After an MBA from IIM-Bangalore, he now works in the have,” “What kind of events take place,” “What sports are
played,”, “What happens on Club Day,” “What do the SCRAs
private sector and lives in Hyderabad. do once they graduate from Jamalpur,” “Do the SCRAs have
their own railway saloons,” “When are they likely to become
I spent four of the best years of my life at Jamalpur. I call DRMs and GMs on the Railways” were questions that we
them the wonder years because these are the years which routinely encountered.
transformed me from a shy, reclusive teenager into a confident
young person, ready to embrace the world. For a common Jamalpurian, getting invited to the Annual Club
Day, organized at Gymkhana on the 14th of February, was a
The primary reason for this transformation was Jamalpur statement of having arrived and of belonging to the Who’s Who
Gymkhana, the hostel for Special Class Railway Apprentices of the town. Some invitees used to preserve the Gymkhana
(SCRA) on Indian Railways. It is a unique place which houses invitation card and display it in their Drawing Rooms! Most
a set of talented and accomplished individuals as they go people were in awe. Some were also jealous.
through the four-year SCRA program.
For those of us who were living in the Gymkhana, it was home.
Almost everyone in Jamalpur knew about Gymkhana and was And it was a place very different from the rest of Jamalpur.
very curious to know how life was within its premises. “What And from any other place in the world. The primary purpose
of our being there was to complete the requirements of the
SCRA course, a four-year course in Mechanical engineering
at the IRIMEE (Indian Railways Institute of Mechanical and
Electrical Engineering). Selection for SCRA was through the
UPSC (Union Public Service Commission), and on graduation,
the students joined the IRSME (Indian Railways Service of
Mechanical Engineers).

128  JAMALPUR: The Town the British Built role in our lives to a much larger extent. We managed the
hostel on our own, with a very well-organized structure,
As part of the course requirement, we had our theory classes constitution and elected representatives. It was the experience
at IRIMEE, earlier called the Jamalpur Technical School. These of doing this that opened up a whole set of new experiences
theory classes were interspersed with practical sessions at the for us. It certainly helped that we had a great set of support
Jamalpur Railway Workshop, the oldest railway workshop staff: bearers, washer men, cooks, mechanics and people to
in India. The first batch of Special Class Railway Apprentices run errands, right from day one. Most of us came to Gymkhana
joined the Jamalpur Technical School on 14th February 1927, a as 17-18-year olds, just out of school and then, to get such
day which is celebrated as Club day. attention was quite unexpected. As part of the course, we were
also given a handsome monthly stipend. It enabled us to be
It was in Gymkhana, however, that the entire experience of financially independent, at the very least. The more prudent
being with a set of outstanding individuals came to life. At amongst us also saved a good amount of money and got into
any point of time, there were SCRAs from four batches living the habit of investing.
there, many of whom had left institutions like the IITs to join
the SCRA program. They were from all parts of India, with Gymkhana has something for everyone: from music to books,
the population of those from Delhi and Lucknow being most from golf to squash, from plays to JAMs, from photography to
significant. Pre-1947, there were quite a few from Lahore as
well.

After inter-batch football victory. Photo courtesy: author Fun and frolics. Photo courtesy: author

While the IRIMEE and Workshop sessions were centred on paintings, from debates to extempore, from billiards to bridge.
engineering, it was Gymkhana that played a transformative There was a canvas for each of us to paint our own picture on.

Outside of Gymkhana, we experienced Jamalpur in the railway Reminiscences  129 
colony, the golf course, the hills (where many of us trekked),
the Kharagpur lake, the Sholay tunnel, the workshop, the is one piece of dessert, and there are six SAMs sitting, the
Jamalpur Diesel shed, Munger, the Yogashram, the Notre junior most (by SCRA batch) gets to eat it. If a Gymmie gives
Dame academy, the Church, the Yatrik Hotel, the Madras Cafe, a bicycle ride to another one, the one who is senior will pedal
the State Bank of India Railway Colony, the Post Office at the the bike. If two SAMs meet up at a restaurant, the bill is always
end of the bridge, the National Institute, the Central Institute, on the senior. One is expected to keep one’s food plate ‘open’
the Railway Officer’s club and the Jamalpur bazar. while the others are eating, lest it gives an impression that the
others are eating a lot. SAMs can walk into any other SAM’s
Like everyone at Gymkhana, my experience in the four years home unannounced; and will always be treated to food and
that I spent centred on several of these things. However, the hospitality. The community of SAMs is spread across several
most unique aspect of life in Gymkhana was the network it impressive places: in the Railways, in the Government, in the
created - the network of SAMs, those who had been fortunate private sector, in academia, in social work; but no matter who
to spend four years at Jamalpur Gymkhana. you are and where you are, you always greet and interact with
a fellow SAM with warmth and in the spirit of camaraderie.
SAM is a term used to designate graduates from the SCRA There are several such unwritten codes of conduct, which make
course (SAM stands for Special Apprentice Mechanical). the SAM network one of the most closely-knit alumni network
The fraternity of SAMs is a very closely knit one, not just in in the world.
Jamalpur, but everywhere in the world. There have been less
than 1500 SAMs to date, starting from the first batch in 1927, With several questions being raised about the future of the
and almost everyone knows everyone else. There are several SCRA scheme and with a notification (issued by the Railway
(unwritten) principles of SAM interaction, the basis for which Board in 2016) that it is likely to be stopped, the future of this
is the experience at Jamalpur and in the Gymkhana. wonderful community of SAMs is uncertain. However, what
will continue to endure is the legacy, the bonding and the
One of the most basic principles of interaction is that esprit de corps that this set of people, coming in from all parts
all privileges belong to a junior. So, if on a dinner table, there of India, have created through a journey which began in the
hallowed portals of the Jamalpur Gymkhana.



ANNEXURE



Rudyard Kipling: AMONG THE RAILWAY FOLK

Celebrated British writer, best known in India for “The Jungle Book” and “Man Eaters of Kumaon”
Photo credit - Wikipedia

A RAILWAY SETTLEMENT1
Jamalpur is the headquarters of the East India Railway. This in itself is not a startling statement. The wonder begins with the exploration
of Jamalpur, which is a station entirely made by, and devoted to, the use of those untiring servants of the public, the railway folk.
They have towns of their own at Toondla and Assensole; a sun-dried sanitarium at Bandikui; and Howrah, Ajmir, Allahabad, Lahore,
and Pindi know their colonies. But Jamalpur is unadulteratedly “Railway,” and he who has nothing to do with the E. I. Railway in
some shape or another feels a stranger and an interloper. Running always east and southerly, the train carries him from the torments
of the northwest into the wet, woolly warmth of Bengal, where may be found the hothouse heat that has ruined the temper of the
good people of Calcutta. The land is fat and greasy with good living, and the wealth of the bodies of innumerable dead things; and
here—just above Mokameh—may be seen fields stretching, without stick, stone, or bush to break the view, from the railway line to
the horizon.

1 First of the three articles on Jamalpur, was published in “Pioneer” on 24 July 1888. The second article ‘The Shops’ was published on 4 Aug 1888
and the last ‘Vulcan’s Forge’ on 8 Aug 1888. All the three are carried here.

134  JAMALPUR: The Town the British Built

Up-country innocents must look at the map to learn that Jamalpur is near the top left-hand corner of the big loop that the E. I. R.
throws out round Bhagalpur and part of the Bara-Banki districts. Northward of Jamalpur, as near as may be, lies the Ganges and
Tirhoot, and eastward an offshoot of the volcanic Rajmehal range blocks the view.

A station which has neither Judge, Commissioner, Deputy, or ‘Stunt, which is devoid of law courts, ticca-gharies, District
Superintendents of Police, and many other evidences of an over-cultured civilisation, is a curiosity. “We administer ourselves,”
says Jamalpur, proudly, “or we did—till we had local self-government in—and now the racket-marker administers us.” This is a
solemn fact. The station, which had its beginnings thirty odd years ago, used, till comparatively recent times, to control its own
roads, sewage, conservancy, and the like. But, with the introduction of local self-government, it was ordained that the “inestimable
boon” should be extended to a place made by, and maintained for, Europeans, and a brand-new municipality was created and
nominated according to the many rules of the game. In the skirmish that ensued, the Club racket-marker fought his way to the front,
secured a place on a board largely composed of Babus, and since that day Jamalpur’s views on government have not been fit for
publication. To understand the magnitude of the insult, one must study the city—for station, in the strict sense of the word, it is not.
Crotons, palms, mangoes, mellingtonias, teak, and bamboos adorn it, and the poinsettia and bougainvillea, the railway creeper and
the bignonia venusta, make it gay with many colours. It is laid out with military precision to each house its just share of garden, its
red brick path, its growth of trees,[Pg 251] and its neat little wicket gate. Its general aspect, in spite of the Dutch formality, is that of
an English village, such a thing as enterprising stage-managers put on the theatres at home. The hills have thrown a protecting arm
round nearly three sides of it, and on the fourth it is bounded by what are locally known as the “sheds”; in other words, the station,
offices, and workshops of the company. The E. I. R. only exists for outsiders. Its servants speak of it reverently, angrily, despitefully,
or enthusiastically as “The Company”; and they never omit the big, big C. Men must have treated the Honourable the East India
Company in something the same fashion ages ago. “The Company” in Jamalpur is Lord Dufferin, all the Members of Council, the
Body-Guard, Sir Frederick Roberts, Mr. Westland, whose name is at the bottom of the currency notes, the Oriental Life Assurance
Company, and the Bengal Government all rolled into one. At first, when a stranger enters this life, he is inclined to scoff and ask, in
his ignorance, “What is this Company that you talk so much about?” Later on, he ceases to scoff; for the Company is a “big” thing—
almost big enough to satisfy an American.

Ere beginning to describe its doings, let it be written, and repeated several times hereafter, that the E. I. R. passenger carriages, and
especially the second-class, are just now horrid—being filthy and unwashen, dirty to look at, and dirty to live in. Having cast this

Annexure  135 

small stone, we will examine Jamalpur. When it was laid out, in or before the Mutiny year, its designers allowed room for growth,
and made the houses of one general design—some of brick, some of stone, some three, four, and six roomed, some single men’s
barracks and some two-storied—all for the use of the employés. King’s Road, Prince’s Road, Queen’s Road, and Victoria Road—
Jamalpur is loyal—cut the breadth of the station; and Albert Road, Church Street, and Steam Road the length of it. Neither on
these roads or on any of the cool-shaded smaller ones is anything unclean or unsightly to be found. There is a dreary village in the
neighbourhood which is said to make the most of any cholera that may be going, but Jamalpur itself is specklessly and spotlessly
neat. From St. Mary’s Church to the railway station, and from the buildings where they print daily about half a lakh of tickets, to the
ringing, roaring, rattling workshops, everything has the air of having been cleaned up at ten that very morning and put under a glass
case. There is a holy calm about the roads—totally unlike anything in an English manufacturing town. Wheeled conveyances are few,
because every man’s bungalow is close to his work, and when the day has begun and the offices of the “Loco.” and “Traffic” have
soaked up their thousands of natives and hundreds of Europeans, you shall pass under the dappled shadows of the trees, hearing
nothing louder than the croon of some bearer playing with a child in the verandah or the faint tinkle of a piano. This is pleasant, and
produces an impression of Watteau-like refinement tempered with Arcadian simplicity. The dry, anguished howl of the “buzzer,”
the big steam-whistle, breaks the hush, and all Jamalpur is alive with the tramping of tiffin-seeking feet. The Company gives one
hour for meals between eleven and twelve. On the stroke of noon there is another rush back to the] works or the offices, and Jamalpur
sleeps through the afternoon till four or half-past, and then rouses for tennis at the institute.

In the hot weather it splashes in the swimming bath, or reads, for it has a library of several thousand books. One of the most
nourishing lodges in the Bengal jurisdiction—”St. George in the East”—lives at Jamalpur, and meets twice a month. Its members
point out with justifiable pride that all the fittings were made by their own hands; and the lodge in its accoutrements and the energy
of the craftsmen can compare with any in India. But the institute is the central gathering place, and its half-dozen tennis-courts and
neatly-laid-out grounds seem to be always full. Here, if a stranger could judge, the greater part of the flirtation of Jamalpur is carried
out, and here the dashing apprentice—the apprentices are the liveliest of all—learns that there are problems harder than any he
studies at the night school, and that the heart of a maiden is more inscrutable than the mechanism of a locomotive. On Tuesdays and
Fridays, the volunteers parade. A and B Companies, 150 strong in all, of the E. I. R. Volunteers, are stationed here with the band.
Their uniform, grey with red facings, is not lovely, but they know how to shoot and drill. They have to. The “Company” makes it a
condition of service that a man must be a volunteer; and volunteer in something more than name he must be, or someone will ask the
reason why. Seeing that there are no regulars between Howrah and Dinapore, the “Company” does well in exacting this toll. Some

136  JAMALPUR: The Town the British Built

of the old soldiers are wearied of drill, some of the youngsters don’t like it, but—the way they entrain and detrain is worth seeing.
They are as mobile a corps as can be desired, and perhaps ten or twelve years hence the Government may possibly be led to take a
real interest in them and spend a few thousand rupees in providing them with real soldiers’ kits—not uniform and rifle merely. Their
ranks include all sorts and conditions of men—heads of the “Loco.” and “Traffic,” the “Company” is no respecter of rank—clerks in
the “audit,” boys from mercantile firms at home, fighting with the intricacies of time, fare, and freight tables; guards who have grown
grey in the service of the Company; mail and passenger drivers with nerves of cast-iron, who can shoot through a long afternoon
without losing temper or flurrying; light-blue East Indians; Tyne-side men, slow of speech and uncommonly strong in the arm; lathy
apprentices who have not yet “filled out”; fitters, turners, foremen, full, assistant, and sub-assistant station-masters, and a host of
others. In the hands of the younger men the regulation Martini-Henri naturally goes off the line occasionally on hunting expeditions.

There is a twelve-hundred yards’ range running down one side of the station, and the condition of the grass by the firing butts tells
its own tale. Scattered in the ranks of the volunteers are a fair number of old soldiers, for the Company has a weakness for recruiting
from the Army for its guards who may, in time, become station-masters. A good man from the Army, with his papers all correct and
certificates from his commanding officer, can, after depositing twenty pounds to pay his home passage, in the event of his services
being dispensed with, enter the Company’s service on something less than one hundred rupees a month and rise in time to four
hundred as a station-master. A railway bungalow—and they are as substantially built as the engines—will cost him more than one-
ninth of the pay of his grade, and the Provident Fund provides for his latter end.

Think for a moment of the number of men that a line running from Howrah to Delhi must use, and you will realise what an enormous
amount of patronage the Company holds in its hands. Naturally a father who has worked for the line expects the line to do something
for the son; and the line is not backward in meeting his wishes where possible. The sons of old servants may be taken on at fifteen
years of age, or thereabouts, as apprentices in the “shops,” receiving twenty rupees in the first and fifty in the last year, of their
indentures. Then they come on the books as full “men” on perhaps Rs. 65 a month, and the road is open to them in many ways. They
may become foremen of departments on Rs. 500 a month, or drivers earning with overtime Rs. 370; or if they have been brought
into the audit or the traffic, they may control innumerable Babus and draw several hundreds of rupees monthly; or, at eighteen or
nineteen, they may be ticket-collectors, working up to the grade of guard, etc. Every rank of the huge, human hive has a desire to
see its sons placed properly, and the native workmen, about three thousand, in the locomotive department only, are, said one man,

Annexure  137 

“making a family affair of it altogether. You see all those men turning brass and looking after the machinery? They’ve all got relatives,
and a lot of ‘em own land out Monghyr-way close to us. They bring on their sons as soon as they are old enough to do anything, and
the Company rather encourages it. You see the father is in a way responsible for his son, and he’ll teach him all he knows, and in that
way the Company has a hold on them all. You’ve no notion how sharp a native is when he’s working on his own hook. All the district
round here, right up to Monghyr, is more or less dependent on the railway.”

The Babus in the traffic department, in the stores, issue department, in all the departments where men sit through the long, long
Indian day among ledgers, and check and pencil and deal in figures and items and rupees, may be counted by hundreds. Imagine the
struggle among them to locate their sons in comfortable cane-bottomed chairs, in front of a big pewter inkstand and stacks of paper!
The Babus make beautiful accountants, and if we could only see it, a merciful Providence has made the Babu for figures and detail.
Without him, the dividends of any company would be eaten up by the expenses of English or city-bred clerks. The Babu is a great
man, and, to respect him, you must see five score or so of him in a room a hundred yards long, bending over ledgers, ledgers, and
yet more ledgers—silent as the Sphinx and busy as a bee. He is the lubricant of the great machinery of the Company whose ways and
works cannot be dealt with in a single scrawl.

THE SHOPS

The railway folk, like the army and civilian castes, have their own language and life, which an outsider cannot hope to understand.
For instance, when Jamalpur refers to itself as being “on the Long Siding,” a lengthy explanation is necessary before the visitor grasps
the fact that the whole of the two hundred and thirty odd miles of the loop from Luckeeserai to Kanu-Junction via Bhagalpur is thus
contemptuously treated. Jamalpur insists that it is out of the world, and makes this an excuse for being proud of itself and all its
institutions. But in one thing it is badly, disgracefully provided. At a moderate estimate there must be about two hundred Europeans
with their families in this place. They can, and do, get their small supplies from Calcutta, but they are dependent on the tender
mercies of the bazaar for their meat, which seems to be hawked from door to door. There is a Raja who owns or has an interest in the
land on which the station stands, and he is averse to cow-killing. For these reasons, Jamalpur is not too well supplied with good meat,
and what it wants is a decent meat-market with cleanly controlled slaughtering arrangements. The “Company,” who gives grants to
the schools and builds the institute and throws the shadow of its protection all over the place, might help this scheme forward.

138  JAMALPUR: The Town the British Built

The heart of Jamalpur is the “shops,” and here a visitor will see more things in an hour than he can understand in a year. Steam Street
very appropriately leads to the forty or fifty acres that the “shops” cover, and to the busy silence of the loco. superintendent’s office,
where, a man must put down his name and his business on a slip of paper before he can penetrate into the Temple of Vulcan. About
three thousand five hundred men are in the “shops,” and, ten minutes after the day’s work has begun, the assistant superintendent
knows exactly how many are “in.” The heads of departments—silent, heavy-handed men, captains of five hundred or more—have
their names fairly printed on a board which is exactly like a pool-marker. They “star a life” when they come in, and their few names
alone represent salaries to the extent of six thousand a month. They are men worth hearing deferentially. They hail from Manchester
and the Clyde, and the great ironworks of the North: pleasant as cold water in a thirsty land is it to hear again the full Northumbrian
burr or the long-drawn Yorkshire “aye.” Under their great gravity of demeanour—a man who is in charge of a few lakhs’ worth of
plant cannot afford to be riotously mirthful—lurks melody and humour. They can sing like north-countrymen, and in their hours of
ease go back to the speech of the Iron countries they have left behind, when “Ab o’ th’ yate” and all “Ben Briarly’s” shrewd wit shakes
the warm air of Bengal with deep-chested laughter. Hear “Ruglan’ Toon,” with a chorus as true as the fall of trip-hammers, and fancy
that you are back again in the smoky, rattling, ringing North!

But this is the “unofficial” side. Go forward through the gates under the mango trees, and set foot at once in sheds which have as
little to do with mangoes as a locomotive with Lakshmi. The “buzzer” howls, for it is nearly tiffin time. There is a rush from every
quarter of the shops, a cloud of flying natives, and a procession of more sedately pacing Englishmen, and in three short minutes you
are left absolutely alone among arrested wheels and belts, pulleys, cranks, and cranes—in a silence only broken by the soft sigh of a
far-away steam-valve or the cooing of pigeons. You are, by favour freely granted, at liberty to wander anywhere you please through
the deserted works. Walk into a huge, brick-built, tin-roofed stable, capable of holding twenty-four locomotives under treatment,
and see what must be done to the Iron Horse once in every three years if he is to do his work well. On reflection, Iron Horse is wrong.
An engine is a she—as distinctly feminine as a ship or a mine. Here stands the Echo, her wheels off, resting on blocks, her underside
machinery taken out, and her side scrawled with mysterious hieroglyphics in chalk. An enormous green-painted iron harness-rack
bears her piston and eccentric rods, and a neatly painted board shows that such and such Englishmen are the fitter, assistant, and
apprentice engaged in editing that Echo. An engine seen from the platform and an engine viewed from underneath are two very
different things. The one is as unimpressive as a cart; the other as imposing as a man-of-war in the yard.

Annexure  139 

In this manner is an engine treated for navicular, laminitis, back-sinew, or whatever it is that engines most suffer from. No. 607,
we will say, goes wrong at Dinapore, Assensole, Buxar, or wherever it may be, after three years’ work. The place she came from is
stencilled on the boiler, and the foreman examines her. Then he fills in a hospital sheet, which bears one hundred and eighty printed
heads under which an engine can come into the shops. No. 607 needs repair in only one hundred and eighteen particulars, ranging
from mud-hole-flanges and blower-cocks to lead-plugs, and platform brackets which have shaken loose. This certificate the foreman
signs, and it is framed near the engine for the benefit of the three Europeans and the eight or nine natives who have to mend No. 607.
To the ignorant the superhuman wisdom of the examiner seems only equalled by the audacity of the two men and the boy who are
to undertake what is frivolously called the “job.” No. 607 is in a sorely mangled condition, but 403 is much worse. She is reduced to
a shell—is a very elle-woman of an engine, bearing only her funnel, the iron frame and the saddle that supports the boiler.

Four-and-twenty engines in every stage of decomposition stand in one huge shop. A travelling crane runs overhead, and the men
have hauled up one end of a bright vermilion loco. The effect is the silence of a scornful stare—just such a look as a colonel’s portly
wife gives through her pince-nez at the audacious subaltern. Engines are the “livest” things that man ever made. They glare through
their spectacle-plates, they tilt their noses contemptuously, and when their insides are gone they adorn themselves with red lead, and
leer like decayed beauties; and in the Jamalpur works there is no escape from them. The shops can hold fifty without pressure, and on
occasion as many again. Everywhere there are engines, and everywhere brass domes lie about on the ground like huge helmets in a
pantomime. The silence is the weirdest touch of all. Some sprightly soul—an apprentice be sure—has daubed in red lead on the end
of an iron tool-box a caricature of some friend who is evidently a riveter. The picture has all the interest of an Egyptian cartouche, for
it shows that men have been here, and that the engines do not have it all their own way.

And so, out in the open, away from the three great sheds, between and under more engines, till we strike a wilderness of lines all
converging to one turn-table. Here be elephant-stalls ranged round a half-circle, and in each stall stands one engine, and each engine
stares at the turn-table. A stolid and disconcerting company is this ring-of-eyes monsters; 324, 432, and 8 are shining like toys. They
are ready for their turn of duty, and are as spruce as hansoms. Lacquered chocolate, picked out with black, red, and white, is their
dress and delicate lemon graces the ceilings of the cabs. The driver should be a gentleman in evening dress with white kid gloves,
and there should be gold-headed champagne bottles in the spick and span tenders. Huckleberry Finn says of a timber raft, “It

140  JAMALPUR: The Town the British Built

amounted to something being captain of that raft.” Thrice enviable is the man who, drawing Rs. 220 a month, is allowed to make Rs.
150 overtime out of locos Nos. 324, 432, or 8. Fifty yards beyond this gorgeous trinity are ten to twelve engines who have put in to
Jamalpur to bait. They are alive, their fires are lighted, and they are swearing and purring and growling one at another as they stand
alone. Here is evidently one of the newest type—No. 25, a giant who has just brought the mail in[Pg 262] and waits to be cleaned up
preparatory to going out afresh.

The tiffin hour has ended. The buzzer blows, and with a roar, a rattle, and a clang the shops take up their toil. The hubbub that
followed on the Prince’s kiss to the sleeping beauty was not so loud or sudden. Experience, with a foot-rule in his pocket, authority in
his port, and a merry twinkle in his eye, comes up and catches Ignorance walking gingerly round No. 25. “That’s one of the best we
have,” says Experience, “a four-wheeled coupled bogie they call her. She’s by Dobbs. She’s done her hundred and fifty miles to-day;
and she’ll run in to Rampore Haut this afternoon; then she’ll rest a day and be cleaned up. Roughly, she does her three hundred miles
in the four-and-twenty hours. She’s a beauty. She’s out from home, but we can build our own engines—all except the wheels. We’re
building ten locos. now, and we’ve got a dozen boilers ready if you care to look at them. How long does a loco. last? That’s just as may
be. She will do as much as her driver lets her. Some men play the mischief with a loco. and some handle ‘em properly. Our drivers
prefer Hawthorne’s old four-wheeled coupled engines because they give the least bother. There is one in that shed, and it’s a good ‘un
to travel. But eighty thousand miles generally sees the gloss off an engine, and she goes into the shops to be overhauled and refitted
and replaned, and a lot of things that you wouldn’t understand if I told you about them. No. 1, the first loco. on the line, is running
still, but very little of the original engine must be left by this time. That one there, came out in the Mutiny year. She’s by Slaughter and
Grunning, and she’s built for speed in front of a light load. French-looking sort of thing, isn’t she? That’s because her cylinders are
on a tilt. We used her for the Mail once, but the Mail has grown heavier and heavier, and now we use six-wheeled coupled eighteen-
inch, inside cylinder, 45-ton locos. to shift thousand-ton trains. No! All locos. aren’t alike. It isn’t merely pulling a lever. The Company
likes its drivers to know their locos., and a man will keep his Hawthorne for two or three years. The more mileage he gets out of
her before she has to be overhauled the better man he is. It pays to let a man have his fancy engine. A man must take an interest in
his loco., and that means she must belong to him. Some locos. won’t do anything, even if you coax and humour them. I don’t think
there are any unlucky ones now, but some years ago No. 31 wasn’t popular. The drivers went sick or took leave when they were told
off for her. She killed her driver on the Jubbulpore line, she left the rails at Kajra, she did something or other at Rampur Haut, and
Lord knows what she didn’t do or try to do in other places! All the drivers fought shy of her, and in the end she disappeared. They
said she was condemned, but I shouldn’t wonder if the Company changed her number quietly, and changed the luck at the same