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`Patriotism is needed today'

Appan Nair, British in manners and education, but truly Indian at heart, narrates his experiences in British firms in the years following Independence

PHOTO: VIPINCHANDRAN

FIERCELY LOYAL Appan Nair was always wedded to patriotism

The words of Lord Mountbatten still trouble the quiet, retired evenings of Appan Nair as he spends his days in, `namam japam' (prayer) and in re-reading the writings of Mahatma Gandhi at the Sree Ramakrishna Seva Ashramam in Kochi. In 1947, the charming, informal words of India's last Viceroy were like manna from the heavens to the ten-year-old at Doon School. India would be an equal nation along with Britain and `we will do marvellous things together,' the Viceroy declared. Appan's young and hopeful heart had then swelled in patriotic fervour but "on hindsight I found that all that Lord Mounbatten had said was not exactly true."

`English-boy'

British educated and trained, Mr. Nair was one of those who were thriving on patriotism even as they worked in English companies. There are few of his ilk left, who tell tales of the British companies that still prospered after Independence . This chronic bachelor was tutored by English teachers and raised on pucca British values. His father K.N.P.Nair taught Math in the Doon School then. Appan was a true-blue `English boy' whose ways were English, his tongue easier with King's English than Malayalam, his accent impeccable, his manners European, his dressing western. Despite these foreign ways, Appan saw glaring discrepancies in what his British teachers had taught him and what his British bosses practised later.

Steeped in British culture and equally familiar with Indian tradition, Appan's childhood was replete with visits to the Shivanand Ashram in Rishikesh where he went along with his parents. Their home in Dehra Dun was an open house for yogis. "I was always drawn towards spirituality." The speeches of Gandhi too were leaving deep impressions on the mind of the young boy. Subhash Chandra Bose's words had an exhilarating effect on him. "I remember the lines... in translation it is ... `The signs of a revolutionary... hope in his eyes, flowers of death on his palms and a storm of freedom brewing in his bosom... "

At 19, as a young tea broker in Caritt Moran Co Pvt Ltd, in 1958, he was in the most prestigious of professions and also the most highly paid. But it took him only a few years of being in the highly anglicised tea industry to find his patriotism at odds with his profession.

"Tea broking was the most glamorous part of the tea industry. In fact tea broking was fascinating but two years into it and I began noticing certain things. I noticed that the British did not want the industry to flourish in India. There were so many tell tale warnings within my mind against taking this job, but I entered the world of tea in Kolkata. Soon I was moved to Kochi as they needed a Malayalam speaking person here to handle the problems of tea manufacture on the estates."

Mr. Nair feels that the British often employed bad trade practices to keep Indians from doing well, though he has utmost respect for his British teachers. "What the British were doing in the tea Industry went against my grain. I could not stomach the obsequious behaviour expected. I could not toe the line," grimaces Mr. Nair explaining why the British were very smoothly destroying the tea industry. "When the British knew that they had to leave India they deliberately began promoting and recruiting the wrong people for new appointments. We always thought kindly of British teachers. They always gave us the impression that British companies were fair and great concerns. But my British teachers too would be appalled by the ways of the British companies. In Kochi at that time, the heads in the account departments of the tea companies were invariably Kerala Brahmins. A management practice used on these men, called `samis', was like this: If the British wanted the sami to fall in line, they would get him abused in public by boatmen. The sami would rush to the director of the company who would feign ignorance and disbelief. No action would ever be taken, and the belittled samis would fall in line. Another common practice was inciting trouble between a hotheaded labourer and a recalcitrant trade union leader. They would very cleverly start a rumour, like an illicit affair between the labourer's wife and the union leader, so much so that the labourer would murder the innocent union leader. An estate manager gleefully told me about this. Cutting off bamboos and burning the stumps in the North Indian tea gardens to claim insurance was also common. All this went against my patriotism. I was only 20. I didn't dream of such things. My British bosses were happy with me in everything except with my patriotism. They hoped they could change me. . I was a tee-totaller right through and this was a great disadvantage in those times. But the British forgave me for this and admired my English and my sporting abilities."

Uneasy relations

Despite Mr. Nair's uneasy relation with his British bosses his brief stint in Kochi was a happy one. "I lived at the Ballard Bungalow. The Old Harbour Hotel was the Carritt Moran office and my British director, David Luff, occupied the top floor. I was one of the earliest members of the Cochin Club. In fact the first four Indian members of the club were all Doon schoolboys. Club life was very lively. There was the Scottish highland dance once a week. John the barman was the bartender. My head servant was a butler by the name Santiago. I hardly recognise anything of Fort Cochin now. The only thing that remains the same is the Cochin Club, the Parade Ground and the St Francis Church."

Victimisation

After resigning four times from Carritt Moran, and each time the resignation being rejected, Nair felt that his victimisation at the hands of the British was complete. But it was also true that some of his best friends were English men and women. "I had very high regard for the British people just like my father had and for that matter, Mahatma Gandhi."

Moving from Carritt Moran, Appan joined Duncans group and was the sole in-charge of tea manufacture in their 42 tea gardens. "It was here that on a tea estate, Lakhipara bordering Bhutan, I noticed that an English assistant manager would stray very often into Bhutan. This would be looked askance by other managers but I felt this was a question of security. I made an issue of it but this was not taken kindly. I left the company in dismay."

Ten years after that Appan spent his days nursing his old parents and relatives in Palakkad. His childhood town of Dehra Dun beckoned him where he lived teaching the English language. In Kochi from 2003 Appan Nair teaches spoken English, vocabulary and pronunciation to young men and women.

Patriotism remains a living force for him. "We do need patriotism otherwise we will lose our Independence one way or the other. Colonialism is coming back in a different garb with so many farmers committing suicide," says he in impeccable English with a strong British accent.

PRIYADARSSHINI SHARMA

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