The ‘lost’ town
N J Ravi Chander
My memories of Kolar Gold Fields (KGF) remain restricted to the few train trips undertaken in the 1960s when my paternal aunt, Dhanalakshmi, lived there (the family subsequently moved to Bengaluru).
History reveals that the golden era of KGF began after the British firm John Taylor & Sons took control over the mines in 1880 (it came under the sway of the Mysore government in 1956). Once home to several British and Anglo-Indian families, the town boasted a colonial ambience, earning a “Little England” moniker.
Hordes of workers migrated from Tamil Nadu to work in the mines, and Tamil became the lingua franca of KGF.
Massive fans placed strategically inside the tunnels leading to the mine kept it airy. Nevertheless, scary tales abounded of miners perishing in the deep mines after getting trapped in debris following landslips. The siren’s blare signalled a mishap, and the entire town would flock to the accident site, and when the bodies came up, wails would rent the air. Such incidents, however, sent a shiver down the spine of many recruits.
The 141-year-old, 800-bed, British-era BGML Hospital, catering to locals and patients from neighbouring districts and states, was Asia’s first hospital to get electricity and an x-ray unit.
Residents recall the tremendous sounds generated by blasts, followed by rattling windows and tumbling utensils. Panic-stricken residents rushed out of their homes, and some buildings developed cracks. Some locals often joked in Tamil, “Keelay ponaa ponam, mele vandha Panam” (“If you go down, you are a corpse; if you come up, you are rich”).
Mahesh Babu, a painter who regularly shuttles to Bengaluru by train from KGF to work and whose father worked in the mines, has scores of delightful memories. First, he recalls the sight of hundreds and thousands of workers cycling to and from work. Though a mind-boggling view, this made it hard to cross the street. However, calm returned to the neighbourhood once the workers reached their destinations. Babu also remembers his trip into a dark mine in a precarious-looking cage.
Life had its share of thrills despite the perils of working in the deep mines. People flocked to the expansive maidans, which accommodated a 3000-strong audience, to watch a movie — the fare: just a rupee. Massive, transparent screens, fixed on metal poles, enabled audiences to view the film from both sides.
The audience squatted on mats and nibbled on homemade snacks. The frequent whistling and cheering added to the festive mood. Cyclists occupied the space at the rear, watching the show from the comfort of their saddles. Films, usually reruns, got screened thrice every month.
Miners were clad in boots, cow leather belts, and helmets and equipped with bright torches. The English foremen in white uniform enjoyed unique privileges denied to ordinary workers. Whenever salaries or bonuses got disbursed, the entire town erupted in celebrations and vendors camping there made hay. Babu turns nostalgic, recollecting those special days when his father arrived home with packets of goodies and new clothes.
The authorities pumped groundwater into canals, and often young boys took a dip to cool off. The row of washer man’s stone near them was ‘booked’ in a novel way by dumping soiled clothes over them. Babu remembers the gift of four-piece gold cutlery set to former Indian Prime Minister Indira Gandhi during her maiden visit to Bharat Gold Mines Ltd (BGML). Sadly, the town that sat on gold has lost its lustre and degraded into a dust bowl!
(The author is a former banker who has taken to writing as a past time. He is a regular contributor to ‘Kashmir Vision’ besides other regional and national publications)
KV Network
