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Meeting the Gantzers

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By Sarvajit Mukerji

‘Take the path leading downhill opposite Padmini Niwas,’ directed Mukesh busily dealing with guests and calls at the Sterling front desk. This seemed at odds with the directions Colleen Gantzer had given me over the phone, but as Colleen herself had told us to contact Mukesh, we decided to follow his directions. Chirantan and I had made a lightning visit to Mussoorie during the long Easter weekend to meet at least some of the authors mentioned by Ruskin Bond in his Landour Days. Ganesh Saili had very kindly provided us with the Gantzers’ mobile number and I had spoken with both Colleen and Hugh a couple of times to fix up this informal interview. As the taxi inched forward battling the holiday traffic, I tried to remember when it was when I first read the Gantzers’ work. It was in the Reader’s Digest I recalled, years and years ago. The Gantzers had written an article about Mussoorie gearing up for the monsoon … and the description had lived on in my mind. That masterly evocation of a Mussoorie monsoon had impelled me to pick the fascinating little Mussoorie’s Mythistory — travel writers Hugh and Colleen writing about the myths of their hometown, Mussoorie. Little had I guessed that one day I would meet this celebrated couple.

The winding path led downhill into a little wood, and there nestling amidst the oaks was the cottage straight out of a fairy tale. The sense of enchantment was enhanced by the chirping of myriad birds, so that the cottage itself seemed to be singing. The cottage is almost as old as Mussoorie itself and is named after a village in Oxfordshire, said Hugh. The mantelshelf crowded with family photographs, an amazing fire-screen decorated with pressed flowers, muted sunlight filtering in from the rooflight, and amidst this setting reminiscent of a bygone gracious era— petite Colleen and imposing Hugh Gantzer. Though we had never met them before, Colleen and Hugh seemed like old friends—hospitable, warm and very welcoming. Hugh talks of Ruskin Bond as the most generous of men, always willing to help budding authors. While Hugh had always been interested in writing, contributing articles to local newspapers since his youth, it was Ruskin Bond who was instrumental in getting him published in the iconic Blackwood’s Magazine and the Christian Science Monitor. I silently note Hugh’s own candour in acknowledging this. Not every author is keen to admit being indebted to another for getting published. He met Ruskin Bond in the 1960s recalls Hugh, about the time Bond came to settle in Mussoorie. He recalls meeting Bond in his cottage in Barlowganj.

The mention of Barlowganj prompts me to ask Hugh about some of the characters who appear in Ruskin Bond’s Tales from Fosterganj. ‘Fosterganj’ is obviously Barlowganj, originally a small settlement lying on the erstwhile bridle path — the Kipling Road– leading up to Mussoorie which now is a part of greater Mussoorie. We had taken a short detour through Barlowganj on our way to Mussoorie and had been much struck by the imposing Sikander Hall. ‘Foster of Fosterganj’ is a character in Tales from Fosterganj, a man well into his eighties, the last of a landowning Anglo-Indian family who now ekes out an existence by selling gladioli bulbs and ineptly running a chicken farm. Hugh recalls Foster perfectly. He was related to the Skinners of Sikander Hall, he said. He collected a toll tax from tourists going through his property to see a waterfall further down the hill, (a fact recorded by Bond) and tried to sell Hugh gladioli bulbs as well! St George’s and Hampton Court had many Anglo-Indian pupils remembers Hugh. I mention some other old residents mentioned by Bond: Arthur Fisher, the Garlahs, Dean Spread, and Hugh can add much to the bare names mentioned by Bond in his works. That Hugh is deeply embedded in Mussoorie, very knowledgeable about its history, location and its old residents is very evident in the course of our conversation. It is fascinating to hear about people and places Bond has written about from someone who knows both well. But there is one major difference that I noted. While Bond shows many of the Anglo-Indian characters as aging and in straightened circumstances, Hugh is very positive about his community. The Anglo-Indian community is recognised and protected by the Indian Constitution he declares proudly. He belongs to a family with a strong Services tradition and he himself retired as Judge Advocate from the Southern Naval Command, Cochin. His uncle was a naval officer as well, and Colleen points out his portrait photo on the mantelshelf.

Mention of the navy reminds Hugh of his days as a young naval officer in Bombay (now Mumbai) where he met Colleen. He was in the navy for more than twenty years. Colleen always wanted to travel. In fact, she wanted to be a pilot much to the consternation of her mother. While Hugh, though always interested in the literary, was into travel and adventure as part of his job in the Indian Navy. Together they became first generation travel writers and globetrotters. Hugh relates several amusing incidents about their joint travels in India and abroad. I ask Colleen about her experiences of Mussoorie. She came to Mussoorie for the first time to meet Hugh’s parents she said. It is Hugh who is the Mussoorie person. Hugh says that Mussoorie was established as a resort town and it was markedly different from the summer capitals of Shimla, Nainital, Darjeeling and Ooty. The minutiae of social life during the British Empire were extremely intricate. Even the size of visiting cards was clearly laid down. All this was strictly adhered to in the summer capitals, but not in Mussoorie. Mussoorie was the place to let one’s hair down. As Hugh talks about poodle faking and the etiquette expected of officers and gentlemen, I am reminded of John Lang’s satirical account of a day in Mussoorie in an article entitled ‘The Himalaya Club’, published in Charles Dickens’ magazine Household Words. Accepted as the first Australian novelist, John Lang lived in Mussoorie in the last years of his life. Bond has written about locating Lang’s grave. Mussoorie was largely free of rigid social norms and officialdom. Indian Royalty and British top brass were equally attracted to Mussoorie. Mussoorie’s Mythistory relates stories of Mussoorie’s cosmopolitan past where East met West sometimes with bizarre results.

Meanwhile, Colleen had been busy on the phone. Both she and Hugh were rather surprised that though I was working on a book on Ruskin Bond I had not yet met him, and Colleen was determined that this must be rectified. I had missed meeting Bond on his birthday in May 2023 and subsequent efforts had not been successful either. But I had not factored in Colleen’s determination. After several calls to Bond’s adopted family and friends, Colleen got through to Bond himself. She handed the phone over to Hugh who arranged a meeting for us. Ruskin Bond agreed to meet us at 5 p.m.! I was absolutely thrilled! We were meeting Colleen for the first time and yet she took all the trouble to arrange an interview with Bond for us on her own initiative for an absolute stranger with the full help and support of Hugh. Nothing could be greater proof, if proof be needed, of the determination and generosity of the Gantzers. Plate laden with cake and savouries, sipping Anita’s excellent coffee, I marvelled at Hugh’s memory and joie de vivre. He related several amusing incidents of their earlier travels, including a hilarious one of Colleen turning pilot during a flight over the Alps. It was almost time to leave. We were due to meet Stephen Alter at 4 p.m., and Ruskin Bond at 5. As we walked up the slope, Chirantan and I paused to look back at the little cottage, and at Colleen waving at the gate. Only rarely does one meet kindred souls. Late in the evening, as we trudged towards the Library end of the Mall, Dehradun glittering like a million stars in the distance, Colleen called up to confirm if we had finally been able to meet Ruskin Bond. We had, all thanks to Colleen and Hugh Gantzer, but unfortunately missed meeting Stephen Alter, thanks to the unending traffic jam.