Irish father of Indian cardamom, rubber and pepper planting

The old man, past eighty, was ailing when the letter came from a friend to whom he had expressed a desire to buy a new sophisticated wireless set. The friend had written to say that only one such equipment was available.

From what was considered to be his death bed, the old bachelor replied, “Thank you for your letter. I suppose that at my age and in my condition I should be ordering a harp, not a wireless set.” He would have been reasonably certain about his place in heaven because he was a staunch Catholic and Pope Pius XI had, in 1927, conferred on him the Papal honor Pro Ecclesia Et Pontifice for the services he had rendered to the Catholic Church and for his philanthropy.

But the man had great resilience. On this occasion he came back from the jaws of death, so to speak, and immediately sent a telegram to his friend: “cancel harp send wireless.” That was the kind of indomitable spirit he had.

Who was he? An Irishman named J. J. Murphy (1872-1957).

He was born in Dublin into a family of Shippers and Bankers, a seventh month baby who was rather delicate and asthmatic. After private education with Marist Brothers, a Catholic Educational Brotherhood in Europe, and Trinity College, Dublin, J.J. (as he was popularly known) set out to the East. He joined a tea plantation company in Ceylon (now Sri Lanka) but shifted to South India to join another. In spite of his independent nature, he survived on that job for a few years before being sacked.

That, in a way, set Murphy free, at the age of 29.

And there was the whole wide, wild world before him. How he faced it is a saga, which, unfortunately, has not found its rightful place in history. It would be a worthwhile thesis material for a serious researcher.

The first niche Murphy formed was at Pambadampara in the Cardamom Hills. It was virgin forest. There he did something that no body else before him had tried. Till then cardamom was obtained from wild growth in the forests, or from small peasants. The Irishman cultivated cardamom at Pambadampara on an organized plantation basis. It was the first such estate in India and perhaps the world. An interesting aspect was that since cardamom requires heavy shade, it was not necessary to cut down the trees.

Murphy’s interest turned to rubber. Since 1872 the India Office in London had been trying to introduce hevea rubber plants in India without any success. But Murphy, along with three associates, established the first rubber plantation in the country at a place called Alwaye. Then, in 1904, the man went for his own private rubber plantation at Yendayar, the place that was to be his home till death. When I last visited Yendayar Estate, a couple of decades back, a few of the rubber trees planted by Murphy were still standing.

Murphy’s success attracted major Sterling companies to the field. They closed down, at least temporarily, during the depression years. But with uncanny foresight Murphy held on and replanted the old rubber area with high yielding Malaysian clones. When the demand for the strategically important natural rubber spurted during the World War II, the Irishman was right up there on top.

At Yendayar Murphy planted tea as well, and scored another first by organizing pepper cultivation on plantation pattern. Till then, like cardamom, pepper too was procured from wild growth and small farmers.

Murphy was an enlightened employer. He once told the Planters Association of which he was the Chairman, "So long as we pay fair rates and look after our coolies well, we need not worry much..."

At one time I used to visit the Mundakayam Club, which Murphy established, rather frequently. I heard the following story there.

When the First World War began, Murphy went to Madras (now Chennai) to enlist. The officer concerned pointed out that the age limit for recruitment was 40. The Irishman was around 42 then. He was upset, but there was nothing any one could do about His Majesty’s regulations. Murphy told the officer, “Very well, but don’t blame me if you lose the bloody war”, and walked out.

J. J. Murphy died on May 9, 1957. He was buried at Yendayar.

Ends.

Note: For details I have depended on an article “J. J. Murphy 1872 – 1957”, which the late K. L. Kershaw, an eminent planter himself, wrote for the Planters’ Chronicle. This collector's item was sent to me by my maternal uncle, Michael A. Kallivayalil, who, among other things, owns the Yendayar Estate.

Cross posted to Articles By Abraham Tharakan.

Also see:

Irish planter, punter, soldier, playboy

Kerala plantations: The bed tea ceremony that was

Oru Desathinte Amma.

A unique prayer.

Around 1750 A.D. It would be another four decades before the Parayils built the Thycattussarry Church. The statue of St. Antony that the family had brought along when they shifted to Cherthala from the north of Kerala at some point in the hazy past, was kept in the Ayanat house and not at Velliara, the ‘Tharavad’.

A couple of decades earlier, Marthanda Varma, the raja of a small state called Venad on the southern tip of Kerala, had carried out a highly successful military campaign against the principalities to the north. His advance ended with the annexation of Cherthala from the raja of Cochin. Thus, the State known as Travancore came into being.

Marthanda Varma obtained, as a result of his offensive, full control over Purakad Port (south of Alleppey) and partial access to the spices trade. Till then, the export of pepper and other spices was mainly through the Cochin harbour, which was occupied by the Dutch after they defeated the Portuguese in 1663.

Marthanda Varma’s dream of monpolizing the pepper trade did not fructify immediately. For some reason the Christians of Karapuram (Cherthala) continued to ship spices through Cochin. (It is reasonable to conclude that the Parayils were part of that group.) Dr. PK Michael Tharakan, on a research mission to Algemeen Rejkarchief, the Royal Archives at The Hague, discovered a letter written on the subject by the Raja of Travancore on 28 August 1758 to the Dutch Governor at Cochin.

According to tradition, pepper and other hill produces were sent by the Parayils to Cochin by large boats that plied a ‘kappal chal’ (shipping channel), which extended from the port to Thycvattussarry Church along a branch of the Vembanad Lake. This smooth operation suddenly ran into a serious problem.

Enter Lebba Moosa.

This much-feared pirate of the inland waterways started attacking the Parayil shipments. The man had money and muscle power. His main strength was a brother who was an expert with the sling. Two attempts by the Parayils to defeat Moosa failed miserably.

The very existence of the Parayil Family was under threat. They recruited a number of well-trained fighting men to confront Moosa in a perfectly timed move.

Before the small ‘army’ went out for the battle, the ‘Karanavar’ (eldest member of the family) went and stood in front of the statue of St. Antony, the family’s patron saint. He removed his ‘angavastram’ (a shawl that covered the torso), kept it under his left arm (an act to demonstrate respect) and said the following prayer, “Look, if we are defeated this time also, tomorrow both of us would be in the western lake.”

It didn’t come to that. Moosa was either killed in the encounter or died en route as he was being brought to Ayanat in captivity. The sling specialist who was ineffectual in the duel reportedly said that his vision was blurred by a dark shadow. The locals were quick to claim it as a miracle by the patron saint.

The statue of St. Antony is safe inside the Thycattussarry Church today and the Ayanat Parayil house still stands in all its splendour.

Ends.