Back in the 1960s, the Kolar Gold Fields (KGF) was a thriving mining town. I recall calling on a paternal aunt who lived there with her kin then. KGF chronicles reveal that the golden era started after John Taylor & Sons, a British firm, took charge in 1880 (the Mysore government took over the mines in 1956). Once home to many Anglo-Indian and British families, the town earned the moniker of ‘Little England’. Several workers migrated from Tamil Nadu to work in the mines, and Tamil became the lingua franca of KGF.
Residents recall the terrifying sounds generated by the blasts, followed by rattling windows and tumbling utensils. Some buildings even developed cracks. The explosions triggered a scare, and panic-stricken residents scrammed out of their homes. A popular Tamil joke that did the rounds those days goes something like this: ‘Keelay ponaa ponam, mele vandha Panam’ (If you plummet down, you become a corpse; if you come up, you are rich).
Cool air circulated through ducts kept the temperature inside the mines at tolerable limits, but it sizzled as you descended deeper. There were terrifying tales of miners perishing in landslips or rock bursts in the deep mines. Whenever a siren’s blare signalled a mishap, the entire town would descend to the accident site leaving everything behind. Screams of wailing relatives would punctuate the air during such calamities, making many recruits shudder.
A KGF resident, Mahesh Babu, who regularly shuttles to Bengaluru in search of work and whose father worked in the mines, reminisces about the good old days. First, he recalls the sight of hundreds of workers cycling to and from work. Though an incredible view, this made it hard to cross the street. However, calm returned once the workers reached their destinations. Babu also remembers signing in a register at the shaft before being taken down in a precarious-looking cage.
Life was a picnic despite the hazards of working in the deep mines. People thronged to the expansive maidans to watch a movie which cost just a few annas. Giant, transparent screens fixed on metal poles would come up, enabling one to view the film from both sides. The audience squatted on bamboo mats spread on the open ground and gorged on homemade snacks. The frequent whistling and cheering by the spectators lent a festive mood.
Miners were clad in boots, cow leather belts, and helmets and equipped with bright torches. The English forepersons in white uniforms 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.
The authorities pumped groundwater into canals, and often young boys took a dip to cool off. The row of washerman’s stone near them was ‘booked’ in a novel way by dumping soiled clothes over them. Babu recalls 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.
