This will be the last post on the soliloquy based on the above photograph. There are just two items left in the photograph that merit some reminiscing and nostalgia.
The first one is the Solar Topee, depicted there by my brother Arvind wearing his uncle’s. His uncle, the same who experimented with the thought of adopting me, was the Garden Superintendent of a very big estate and had to supervise farm workers on the open fields more than sit under a fan in an office. Some of my older readers will recollect these hats as being favoured head gear by both English and French colonial officials who had to spend some time in the open under the blazing sun of their empires.
In India, these were quite popular and I distinctly remember my uncle wearing it somewhat incongruously combined with his dhoti and kurta as shown with the headless figure in my post The Theosophical Society, Adyar, Madras. Another person I remember was a schoolmaster named Mr. Roberts who used to escort students in our school bus. Despite being protected from the sun, by sitting inside the bus, he never did remove the topi in all the time that I rode the school bus till I was considered old enough to ride a bicycle to school navigating the traffic filled roads of Madras. Besides these two, during the time that my father was in the Home Guards, I saw a couple of Anglo Indian officers wearing these and conducting the parades.
But the story that should tickle Manjiree and all my cricket loving readers is the hero of our days Mohinder Amarnath who braved some of the most aggressive short pitched fast bowling ever, wearing just the solar topi. These were the days before the helmets now preferred were worn and you can read here as to why I consider Mohinder the greatest person who ever wore the solar topi. Compare that heroism with a batsman of today shown on top, who is minus another armour, not shown here, the arm guards.
Now for the last item on the photograph – the felt hat that I am wearing there. That belonged to my father who cut quite a dash wearing it. There are a lot of his photographs with it on his head but I choose this one because of his fondness for automobiles as well. Here he is wearing the hat while standing next to his Graham. That hat lasted a long time and I suppose, disintegrated somewhere in the village. I bought and wore one as an adult in Hyderabad during the summer of 1968 when I was based there as a salesman. I distinctly remember that being the last felt hat that the shop had, all the rest being straw ones. I lost it in a bar there one evening and never forgave myself for that lapse. Unfortunately I don’t have a photograph of mine wearing it!
The last time I wore a hat was with Manjiree and Ranjan escorting me in Mahabalipuram two years ago. We bought a cheap nylon one to give me some protection from the blazing sun and it was discarded on our return to Pune. While Ranjan also bought one for himself, Manjiree did the wiser thing and had opted for a cloth flop hat.
So, Manjiree’s starting off the soliloquy with her question about the three musketeers, finally ends with her contribution to the story too.