Taste of Life: Poona’s monsoon: Season of damp, mildew, and sociability
The monsoon months, from the beginning of June to the end of September, constituted “the season”. There was no end to the social functions – dinners, balls, smaller dances, picnics, including moonlight picnics at Rosherville, theatricals, concerts, and other diversions kept Europeans occupied during the rains
Lady Falkland, or Viscountess Falkland, as Amelia Fitz Clarence Cary was known, wrote of an amusing incident in her memoirs “Chow-Chow; Being Selections from a journal kept in India, Egypt, and Syria”. Her husband, Viscount Falkland, was the governor of Bombay between 1848 and 1853. During her stay in Poona in the rainy season of 1849 or 1850, she organised a dinner ball, one of many, at her residence in Dapoorie.
That day, the rain had been unusually heavy, the roads were flooded, and the river had risen so high as to invade, not only gardens, but even the interior of bungalows. She began to think that no one would come.
At last, a young cadet entered, who confirmed her fears that no one would arrive for the ball.
It was a dismal night, though the rain had ceased. Some carriages were heard, but out of them came people “perfectly useless at balls – a middle-aged colonel, or a collector,” who she knew made a point of never dancing. Then the wheels approached again, and a troop of young soldiers arrived. At last, some ladies appeared.
But then a great number of blister flies flew into the dining room. These insects often alighted upon people without their being aware of it, and should anyone unwittingly crush one on their face or neck, a large blister appeared instantly and caused considerable pain.
That evening, when the guests were preparing themselves for a dance before dinner, there was a swarm of blister flies. Some of those little tormentors climbed up into flounces, hid themselves in folds of net and complicated trimmings. Some crept up gentlemen’s sleeves; others concealed themselves in a jungle of whiskers. One heard little else all the evening, but “Allow me, Sir, to take off this blister fly, that is disappearing into your neck-cloth”, or “permit me, ma’am, to remove this from your arm”.
Lady Falkland was a little disappointed, but mostly amused.
The city of Bombay travelled with her governor. In the cold weather, the seat of government was in Bombay, and in the hot weather on the hills at Mahabaleshwar. When the rains commenced at Bombay, Poona became the refuge of the Europeans and the metropolis of Western India. The climate of Poona was delightful during the monsoon, much resembling that of a fine summer in England, with its alternations of sunshine and showers.
In the rains, all the civil and military officers who had been scattered about in camp in the cold and the hot weather were at Poona. It was a matter of great difficulty to obtain a house in the city in monsoons, for in addition to the three or four regiments always stationed there, the entire administrative staff, and the numerous visitants from Bombay; all the civilians and engineers flocked in with their families, from their respective districts, too happy to exchange their tents and jungle life for comfortable bungalows and a regular holiday-making in Poona. The best houses were frequently engaged from the previous year. There was no hotel in Poona till the early 1850s and the traveller’s bungalow was the only resource for strangers, and even there, they might not remain beyond three days, should other parties arrive requiring accommodation.
Several people congregated together at Poona in monsoons ostensibly for holiday-making; the civilian was relieved from his district wanderings, the merchant from the toils and cares of business, and the military man enjoyed some relaxation from the usual routine of daily parades. The younger officers having nothing on earth to do, would start directly after breakfast with a packed lunch of bread and ham on a round of visits, indefatigably collecting and carrying on the news picked up at each house until the knowledge of everybody’s affairs was obtained, and openly discussed in full conclave at “the band” in the evening or after dinner.
The monsoon months, from the beginning of June to the end of September, constituted “the season”. There was no end to the social functions – dinners, balls, smaller dances, picnics, including moonlight picnics at Rosherville, theatricals, concerts, and other diversions kept Europeans occupied during the rains. Mrs Marianne Postans, in her book “Western India in 1838”, aptly designated the period of the rains in Poona as “that season of damp, mildew, and sociability”.
The Government House at Dapoorie, and later at Ganeshkhind, was constantly open to those residing at Poona. People were expected to pay their respects in morning visits to the governor, as well as by the acceptance of invitations to his dinner parties and balls. Dapoorie was eight miles away from Poona, and it required a considerable fascination in a host and hostess to reconcile their guests to such an expedition on a wet night. There were public breakfasts at the Government House thrice a week, public dinners once every two weeks, while private guests dined at the House almost every night.
Private parties were organised by civil and military officers at their temporary residences. Most of them carried their cooks and butlers with them. Some families sent the butlers to Poona in April and May to prepare for the rains. Before the rainy season set in, all classes alike, rich, middle, and poor, laid in four or five months store of grain, pulses, onions, firewood, spices, pickles, oil, and sugar. Some also stored dried fish.
Every shower developed new beauties in Poona. Creepers sprang up, plants blossomed, flowers put forth their buds or changed their hues, and the vegetation presented a new aspect each successive day. Unfortunately, that was not the only effect of the rains.
As soon as the monsoon had fairly set in, the house was invaded by a mixed company of snakes, blister flies, white ants, and insects of every shape and colour. Dinner parties and balls went on during the rains, despite the inconvenience and discomfort caused by the insects. The heavy rain did not prevent people from travelling between Kirkee, Dapoorie, and Poona for the parties.
Besides the reunions and private parties incessantly going on, there were many dinner balls given by the different regiments during the rains, which invariably took place in the respective mess rooms, handsomely decorated for the occasion with the regimental colours and trophies, the supper tables always viewing with each other in the display of magnificent plate, glass etc, belonging to each mess.
These entertainments fell heavily upon the pockets of young subalterns, with whom it was generally a matter of some difficulty to steer their course free of debt, without any additional demands upon their purses. The lavish expenditure bestowed upon the table equipage and mess kit, in general, became a subject of much animadversion in the later nineteenth century.
In most of the regiments, the senior officers were married men, and consequently, only frequenters of the mess-table upon rare occasions. Thus, it often occurred that the only habitués for whom the magnificent display was prepared and so large an expenditure was incurred consisted of a few junior lieutenants and young ensigns.
Lady Falkland’s party that night was saved by young soldiers. They polked and waltzed over countless myriads of insects that had been attracted by the white cloth on the floor, which was completely discoloured by their mangled bodies.
She thanked them by sending an expensive dinner set to their regiment the next week.
Chinmay Damle is a research scientist and food enthusiast. He writes here on Pune’s food culture. He can be contacted at chinmay.damle@gmail.com
