Location: CLX
Time: Early Shift
I arrived at Chirala a few minutes past noon. Waking up from a heady stupor, I could feel my wet back sticking to the hot seat cover. The car was waiting at the railway crossing that separated the ILTD factory from the Sandridge guest house.
As the all too familiar train horn sounded in the distance, an attendant from the guest house walked past the car, and saluted at the familiar passenger. Was the driver a bit surprised at the sudden respect commanded by the nondescript passenger? I’d like to think so.
I checked into a spacious room on the far end of the guest house. Sandridge is one of ITC’s oldest guest houses built in the early 1900s. As soon as you walk into it, you can feel the overpowering aura of the colonial era, a British styled luxurious dwelling. Not that I know much about the British raj or their ways of living. But, the residence stands like a rock – unaffected by time or change, far removed from the harsh surroundings. The long porch with its intimidating row of arm chairs reek of power and formal authority. The setting is palatial and the workmen in white- profuse.
My room can house a badminton court or 3 English snooker tables. Every other room is equally large. The rooms are so huge, that comfort and loneliness reside together. I dropped my bags and headed to the dining room for lunch. The factory manager was lunching with a couple of Army majors who had come down for reviewing the plant operations. I uttered a cursory hello and took my place at the lone vacant seat at the table. The waiters swarmed around the table serving hot rotis, rice and curies while the men drooled over some drab operational glitches at the plant. A man I knew from before dined silently at the table. ... Somewhere in the past, the ways of the Imperial Tobacco Company has stayed on at ITC, refusing to fade away and patronized as a display of elitism. In an environment where a manager is equated to the British Sarkar, it has become the foundation for an elaborate display of dramaturgy.
