A Passage From India

The grand home in Jubbulpore where June (in the foreground) and her mother went to live with an aunt, after her father’s tragic death.

June loved being dressed in a sari by her treasured ayah, or nanny, named Buddi.

June’s uncle Stanley Harris, his wife Amy (known as Aunty Queenie) and their four children are pictured with June and her mother (far right) and a dead tiger. Stanley was a crack shot and was called on by villagers to kill the ‘man eating tigers’ which once they had killed a person, would have to be shot, as otherwise they would continue to stalk humans and terrorise villages.

The Interesting Lives story in Essence magazine in April 2022, featured Charles Upham Retirement Village resident, June Dalziel, who shared some memorable reflections from her childhood in India in the 1930s.

words: Jo Bailey images: Supplied

Making friends with a friendly elephant, watching a hilarious monkey troupe perform, and being immersed in the exotic sights, sounds, and vibrant colours of India, are some of the wonderful childhood memories of 93-year-old, June Dalziel.

June was born in 1929, with her British (Indian-born) father, Eric Harris, a Police Commissioner at Mhow, and her South African born mother, Ada, a nurse. Tragedy struck the year after June’s birth, when Eric died in a polo accident. “It was very sad for my mother after only two or three years of marriage. We went to live with an aunt in Jubbulpore, who had never married and inherited her parents’ house after they died.”

It was while living at her aunt’s house that June met the performing elephant she nicknamed ‘Rajh’. “A visiting circus was in a big field next to the house, and the elephant had a sore foot. The owner asked if he could leave it tied to a tree for about a month while the circus went to a neighbouring town. I would take my doll outside to see Rajh every day and feed him leaves by hand from a big pile. I was very sad to see him go.”

Like most British people in India during the 1930s, June’s aunt and mother had a cook, cleaner, gardener, and a ‘bearer’ helping them to look after the grand home and large garden. “We didn’t have a telephone, so my aunt and mother would write little notes to friends to ask them out to tea. The bearer would deliver the note on his bicycle, then bring home the reply. That’s how things were done in those days.”

June enjoyed taking her dolls, and even the neighbour’s baby, for walks in her pram.

June had a treasured ‘ayah’ or nanny, named Buddi, who didn’t speak a word of English, but taught her to speak Hindi. “My mother said I spoke Hindi before I spoke English. I loved it when Buddi dressed me in a sari, and she sometimes brought the neighbours’ baby to our house, who I would push around the garden in my doll’s pram.” 

Delicious food is another fond memory, says June. “The day would start with breakfast of a lovely thick yoghurt sprinkled with cinnamon and fruit. Lunch was always a curry of some sort with chipati, and at night we had an English style meal. My favourite dessert was mango fool. We had lots of mangoes growing in the garden.”

The family didn’t have a car, so June and her mother would bike everywhere. “We loved the bazaar with its beautiful racks of colourful saris, glass bangles, spices, and even false teeth. We had no idea where the man got them from, but he would set the false teeth out on the pavement and people would come and try different ones in until they found a set that fitted.”

Entertainers such as snake charmers and monkey troupes regularly did the rounds, putting on performances in people’s homes in exchange for money. “The monkey troupe was my favourite. There was a wedding scene, with monkeys playing the role of the bride, groom, priest, and dancers. The married couple would pretend to have a squabble and then kiss and make up. At the end, one of the monkeys would come up to my aunt with its hand out and a cheeky smile, and scuttle back to the owner with the money she gave it.”

It was either very hot and dry, or very wet in India, says June. “It would get unbearably hot just before monsoon season, when we would wheel our beds out onto the verandah and sleep under mosquito nets. It was the most marvellous sound hearing the rumble of the rain in the hills and knowing the monsoon was coming.”

During the deluge, snakes would often get washed out of their holes, and there were many incidences of them making their way into the house, she says. “One day my mother went to pull a belt hanging off a wardrobe, only to find it was a snake.”

June was home-schooled by her aunt, who was a former teacher and a ‘real stickler’ for grammar. “I loved to read anything and everything I could get my hands on.”

By 1940, when June was 11, WWII was underway, and the winds of change were blowing through India, with independence becoming increasingly likely. June’s uncle had already retired to New Zealand with his wife and four children and encouraged June and her mother to join them. “It was quite traumatic, as I had to say goodbye to my friends and my ayah, who was like a second mother to me. The ship we sailed on to New Zealand was painted grey and had blackouts at night to avoid being torpedoed on the journey.”

One night, when they were halfway across the ocean, the ship’s siren suddenly went off, the lights started blazing, and people were rushing about grabbing life jackets. “The captain’s voice came over the speakers telling everyone to go back to their cabins as everything was under control. We found out later that some officers had been having a party and one of them had fallen overboard from the top deck. They stopped the ship and put out a little boat, and incredibly he was rescued in the dark sea. I remember people saying later how one man had put the whole ship in danger, given the lights had to be turned on during the rescue.”

When June and her mother joined their family in Nelson, she started at Nelson College for Girls, and on the first day, was asked to write a story about something that happened in the holidays. 

“I wrote about the incident on the ship and called my story Man Overboard. I got a good mark for it and the teacher said I had a vivid imagination. She thought I had made it all up.”

Any lack of formal education proved to be no hindrance, as June later became Dux of the College and won a scholarship to the University of Canterbury, where she gained a Masters of English. After university, June waitressed at the Coffee Pot in New Regent’s Street in Christchurch until she had saved enough money to go on her OE with a friend. 

While on the ship Rangitoto on the way to London, June was paired with a ‘tall, brown Scottish farmer’ named Harry Dalziel in a quoits competition, and the rest they say is history. The young couple later decided to marry and settle in New Zealand, with their first job on Glendhu Station near Motunau Beach. “I was given a single man to cook for, and the only thing I knew how to make was curry. It was a real learning curve.”

June pictured here recently with her children.

The couple had six children, five girls and a boy, sadly losing one of their daughters, Joanna, when she was just four years old.

June always wanted to go back to India, and during the 1980s, once her children had grown up she and a friend set off with their backpacks. “I was longing to go back to my roots. The three things I wanted to do first were find the hospital I was born in, find my father’s grave, and return to our house at Jubbulpore.”

They arrived on Christmas Eve and joined the singing at a church service, before having curry and rice for Christmas dinner the next day. Then they got on a packed train to Indor, to find the hospital, run by Franciscan nuns, where June was born. “We were greeted by nuns at the hospital door, who got out a register from 1929, opened it up, and there was my mother’s name, saying she was safely delivered of a baby girl. They took me through the hospital and showed me the little cots with mosquito nets over them, similar to what I would have been put in all those years ago.”

The next trip was to Mhow, to find June’s father’s grave. Unfortunately, many of the tombstones in the cemetery where he was buried had collapsed during years of monsoons or had been taken away. Although she never found his actual grave, she said it was a comfort to have visited his resting place.

Then the women set off for Jubbulpore to find June’s childhood home, which they finally located after much searching. “Finally, I recognised the field in front of the house and said, ‘that’s it!’. It was quite a distinctive house, but it was very neglected which was sad to see. The bamboo was still there where a mongoose family had lived, and used to eat the snakes during our time. Mother had planted a bougainvillea hedge which was still there, so I pressed some cuttings into a book to take back to her in New Zealand. The tree where my elephant friend Rajh had been tethered was standing too, but the rest was neglected.”

After Jubbulpore, it was time for sightseeing, with visits to the Taj Mahal, Rajasthan in northern India, known for its beautiful palaces, and down to Goa and other places down the stunning coastline of southwestern India. 

“One day in Goa we saw the strange sight of a man who had a large block of ice tied to the back of his bike. We asked someone what he was doing, and they said taking it up to the posh hotel on the hill for guests to use in their drinks. We saw the stream he was getting the water from, which was quite dirty with pigs running up and down the side and wondered if anyone got sick from their afternoon tipple.”

Both June and her friend loved the trains, although it was sometimes hard for them to get on, given the sheer numbers of people. “When people knew we were from New Zealand we were quite popular, as everyone was cricket mad and in those days Richard Hadlee and Martin Crowe were in their prime. At one station we were struggling to get on a train and my friend said to the Station Master in a very loud voice, ‘I am Richard Hadlee’s aunt’. He rushed forward and found us two seats. It was very naughty, and we did it a few times. After I got back, I remember seeing Richard Hadlee at Hanmer Springs having a drink, and longed to go up to him and say, you were my passport throughout India.”

During her life, June’s love of language and writing has continued, and for a while she had a job as a book reviewer for The Press.

She now happily lives independently at Ryman’s Charles Upham Retirement Village in Rangiora and looks back fondly on her early years in India. She still loves the culture, festivals and ‘kind, colourful’ Indian people. “When I think back, I had a very pampered life in India, with lots of lovely memories and fun times. It was a wonderful childhood.”