Sometimes the Devil does look after his own.

Sometimes the Devil does look after his own.

Having all but run out of tales of my planting days long before now, which those who’ve been reading my posts would know, a number of my friends twisted my arm to convince me that they actually enjoyed reading my stories and that I should persist.  So, to keep the...
A Whopper of a Thanksgiving

A Whopper of a Thanksgiving

From the time we were in Dubai, while visits to that country have been somewhat infrequent, in peddling my teas around, various cities in Canada have always been a regular port of call. There being a couple of close friends who over the years had emigrated to Canada,...
Totally Bata’d

Totally Bata’d

Totally Bata’d With this one, while I am going off on a tangent from all my earlier yarns, the very roots of this story do go all the way back to my formative years.  Not subjective though, because I am fairly certain any Indian anywhere close to my age would have...
A Million $$ worth of Confetti

A Million $$ worth of Confetti

Having relocated from Assam to Dubai In 1990, ahead of diving into the deep end to set up my own business in late ’93, I was in a job situation, having been appointed as a ‘trader’ in an international commodity trading company.  Following my many years in tea planting...
The watchman who lucked it out

The watchman who lucked it out

I plead innocence to the fact that my rambles are all over the place with my stories taking a huge leap forward from one decade to the next and then rewinding all the way back to the past. The guilty one is my brain which simply refuses to function chronologically....
A ‘wee’ tale

A ‘wee’ tale

With this one I’m back to my school days.  11 wonderful years in Bishop Cotton School, Simla. This yarn has its origin probably in 1957, a couple of years ahead of me being despatched to the boarding school as a snivelling little tyke.  In that year one of the little...