I have spent several years on a tea plantation in North India and this is a brief account of my first two years as an estate group manager trainee. It was the third month since I had started training and everything seemed like a standard job except for the early morning rounds in the lush green tea garden. What amazed me was the size of the place. There were two thousand hectares of plantation with a permanent staff of two thousand workers and families, but because of the seclusion of the area deep inside the jungle and near the border of Sikkim and Nepal, it had its own market police station, post office and hospital and was virtually self contained. The nearest town was around a hundred and thirty miles distant.

During the picking season we had to employ an additional labor force of around three thousand and they would come from all the neighboring villages and from across the border. For many of them this would be their one chance to make enough money to last them the coming winter and till the next season.

My boss, Mr. David Cromwell, one of the few remaining Englishmen who remained in India after Independence was a strong and large old man with a strict code of rules and an almost military like attitude towards discipline. But I guess that was what made him good at his job – being king of all the land around him as far as he could see. Besides, nothing but fear could control a labor force of this size, and the fact that it consisted of nearly eighty percent women made it even more difficult. This situation though was changing as the labor union was getting stronger and being represented by a forum at the Head Office in Calcutta.

Guidelines with a code of conduct and ID cards with age checks and enquiries continuously being made, made the job more and more bureaucratic than it ever was before. All this was done in a meticulous system with several logbooks and several accountants and local government appointed welfare officers – most of them employed due to the reservation rights under the Tribal and Minority’s Reservations Act. They were easily bribed and had no idea what welfare meant, let alone being able to speak English.

Anyway to cut a long story short, as the season drew closer to the monsoon, recruitment for temporary labour was in process and the first requirement for employment was a full medical fitness clearance. The was made compulsory by the company because the union had demanded full medical benefits for even the temperary workers during their three or four months of employment. This also came with a requirement for age clearance as certain age groups of minors and adults were allowed to work but with a difference in pay package. This worked well for the company, particularly for the age groups between fourteen and under eighteen. But since none of the workers had any record of birth or even knew their age they had to be assessed by the medical office in charge and certified with an assessed age for the season. Along with their medical ID card this would allow them to gain employment and benefits from the plantation for the season.

That praticular morning I was detailed to report for my briefing to Mr. Cromwell’s office. I was not sure what was in store for me but it was to be my job for the next two years. I was greeted with a formal ‘good morning’ as I walked in to his office and sat down. My performance was being reviewed and finally he raised his head and looked straight at me and said, ‘My boy, I didn’t think you had it in you but this report tells me you are shaping up quite well.’

‘Thank you sir.’ I replied.

‘Good, very good, but now you will be in for a stint with social and medical welfare and it's not to be taken lightly, there is a lot to learn from these people. But don’t forget who you really work for. – You will report to Dr. Rohan at 0900 hrs. And he will detail you accordingly! Good bye and good luck!’

‘Thank you sir,’ I said resisting the urge to salute. I walked out, taking care not to knock over my chair or to stumble on my way out of his office.

If I was to reach the Hospital at nine o’clock I was going to have to pedal my bicycle as hard as I could. This was the first time I had visited the hospital area and though the ride was beautiful it was hot and I was sweaty by the time I reached it. I was surprised to find the compound crowded with women and children. I had to push my way through them past the gate and up to the porch. There was a line of women and children standing on the veranda with a watchman minding the line in front seated on a stool. He was positioned between a curtained door way and the line, peeking inside and out at intervals, occasionally motioning the women or girl in front to go in. He had a tired and bored look on his face and when I tapped him and asked for directions to Dr. Rohan's office he pointed with his baton to a door on the opposite side of the veranda.

This doorway had a curtain which was threadbare and colored hospital green. Just behind the curtain was one of those swinging doors that one sees in an old western movie where you could look in over the top and your legs could be seen underneath. (The purpose to this still beats me even today.) I stood discreetly behind the curtain and knocked and received a loud, ‘come in!’

The response was so loud that I was jolted from the daze that the heat and sound of hundreds of cackling women produced, so that I jerked myself into the room. But as soon as I entered I froze. In front of me were two naked adolescents. Both of them were a little uncomfortable by my presence but after a cursory glance in my direction they turned their attention to the doctor in front of them or at least that’s what I thought he was. He was dressed in khaki slacks and in a white T-shirt with a lab coat thrown over it. He didn’t even acknowledge my presence as he has one of those orifice- examining instruments stuck inside one of the girl’s ear and was peering intently into it.

I stood there waiting for him to finish, almost frozen on the spot not knowing whether I should step back outside until he finished or just stand there till he looked up at me. During this period I took the opportunity to both regain my loss of composure and observe the room around me.

What struck me almost immediately was that it was really small and very cramped, a room not much bigger than ten by ten feet. In it was a moderately sized writing table, a small metal movable screen, a narrow examining table, two medicine cabinets, a wooden chair on which the good doctor was seated and a short three legged stool for the patient, whose ear was being examined. There were two visitor’s chairs opposite the desk. On the right behind the doctor was a curtained door and in the corner was the tiniest wash basin I have ever seen. The construction was wooden and colonial in styling, in other words very old! The other girl was standing, apparently waiting her turn. The room was so small that I would literally bump into her if I were to take just one little step forward.

‘What is it?’ He asked still looking into the girl's ear. I didn’t realize that he was talking to me.

‘Eh?’ was all I could say in response.

‘Well damn it! What is it you want?’ he grunted, reluctantly standing up and putting the instrument down. The girl who had her head twisted for the examination straightened up and sort of eased her head about as if to relieve the stiffness.

The doctor leaned back in his chair and eyed me. He looked tired but neat. I couldn’t tell if he was short but he was trim for his age, which could not have been less than thirty-five.

‘I'm looking for Dr. Rohan,’ I said waiting for a response. ‘I've been sent by Mr. Cromwell for the welfare briefing?’ Hoping that Mr. Cromwell’s name would solicit some response or at least a justification for my being in an apparently restricted area.

‘Ah! So you’re Rashid eh? Sit man, I’ll finish up here and then we can talk. Go on sit - sit, you’re giving me a crick in neck,’ he said as I hesitated. I edged forward and dragged a chair back and as I was sitting down he leaned forward and shook my hand.

Then he turned his attention back to the girl. She was very uncomfortable by now as her bottom was literally next to my head and she had crossed her hand in front her crotch so as to not afford me a view of her vaginal lips. He told her to lie down on the gurney. Then he turned his attention to the other girl sitting in front him continuing his apparently routine examination.

My eyes followed the other girl to the gurney and watched with fascination as she climbed on top of it. Both of them were Nepali, their skins were smooth and their hair was cut straight in a school girl page-boy style. I was amazed at the lack of response to my presence, They were both definitely embarrassed and unhappy that I was there but since I was an authority figure that was OK with them. They just had to put up with it.

The curtain behind Dr. Rohan was opened a little and a man in his early twenties wearing a vest stuck his head out to look around and then withdrew it. It was only then that I realized that he was sitting there on a stool behind the curtain and tending some sort of line of people waiting for their turn to come in!

I turned my attention the girl being examined. She was now standing. Her breasts could best be described as budding. Rohan had his hands under her armpits, then donning the stethoscope he asked her to take breaths as he listened to her chest. She looked much taller than I expected her to be and only then did I realize how short the stool was. He then asked her to turn around and took a cursory look at her spine. He told her in Nepali to bend and hold her ankles. Up until this point she had managed to block out my presence but now I could feel the reluctance as she bent over her eyes checked to see if I was looking at her. She knew that in this position nothing would be hidden from my view.

The humiliation of this and the fact that I was not much older than her, not a professional and that for the next five to ten minutes her most intimate and private parts would be the focus of our attention was almost more than she could bear.

Yet by the way she was mutely complying I could assume that she had been through similar situations before. Dr. Rohan rummaged in one of the cabinets and extracted a large jar then turned to me as if it were an after thought and asked, ‘Tea?’

Tearing my gaze away from the poor girl’s behind I looked blankly at Dr. Rohan. He again asked, ‘Tea my young man, would you like some tea?’

Tea? How could he think of tea at a time like this, I thought to myself but answered, ‘Er sure.’

Barely had I acknowledged his offer when he struck the bell on the table and the chap behind the curtain hopped off his stool and entered the room. He looked no older than twenty and was wearing a pair of loose Khaki shorts. He was barefoot.

‘Do chai,’ (two teas) Dr. Rohan ordered and proceeded to grease his finger with gel.

Without a word the chap grinned and bowed out. Once he was outside I could hear him bellow out an order for two teas in Hindi to someone called Ramu.

Dr. Rohan proceeded to hold the right buttock of the girl and inserted his well-lubricated left middle finger into her anus and rotated clockwise and back. Clearly the girl was as uncomfortable as she was embarrassed. She tried to straighten up a little but Dr. Rohan asked to lift her left leg place and it on the chair. The finger still lodged deep inside, he then pushed her head down with his right hand as far as it would go. This now afforded me the clearest view of her genitals, which were now slightly open, the clitoris clearly visible. It seemed odd that being as big as she was she was bald as a baby. On closer observation it appeared she was shaved.

She was now grunting with discomfort, her bottom was quivering, as were the lips of her smooth labia from the sheer indignity of her position and our visual invasion. Just as Dr. Rohan was removing his finger which was involuntarily being sucked by the anal sphincter muscle, giving her the feeling that she was going to evacuate her bowels, the curtain opened again and a boy in Khaki shorts and a grubby white vest walked in with a tray with two glasses of tea. He set the tea carefully on the table but his eyes were lecherously fixed on her. His face had a smirk on it but while Dr. Rohan stood up to wash his hand he respectfully stepped back and waited. The girl was frozen with shame and moved to bend her knees a little in a vain attempt to hide her vagina from view.

Dr. Rohan dried his hands, paid Ramu and then sat down to take a sip of tea motioning me to help myself as Ramu left. Turning to the girl he spread her vaginal lips with his thumb and index finger and shone a small torch into the opening.

“Have you passed stool today?” He demanded in Nepali.

“Uh,” came a week reply of acknowledge.

“Any constipation?”

“No.”

“When was your last period?”

“One week ago.” Came a mortified answer.

Then replacing the index finger, which was holding her lips apart, with the middle finger he used it to move her clitoris. It was large, pinkish but darkening at the tip. She again looked at me from between her legs. I looked away unable to meet her stare.

“Are you married?” Rohan asked.

She said, “No.”

“Do you masturbate?”

There was silence. She looked at me as her face reddened. Staring like a jackass I waited for her to respond. I guess she considered saying no, but a coaxing flick by Dr. Rohan’s finger on her clitoris confirmed that he already knew the answer. To say no would only further delay this humiliation. She managed a faint affirmative response with an, “Uh ha.”

Looking to see if I had heard or understood what she said, Dr. Rohan then told her to stand up and turn around. He quickly finished up the rest of the examination. He inspected the glands in her crotch, looked for sores on the knees and in between her toes for something I really have no idea of. She was in good health in every way.

While he then bent over his desk he proceeded to tell her to be careful when masturbating, advising her to use only her fingers and no vegetables or other objects. He also advised her to ensure that she washed her hands with soap after passing stool or urine.

She blushed and just stood there waiting to be told what to do next. Dr. Rohan finished filling in the form and handing it to her saying, “Now go get the blood, urine and stool test completed. Babu will show you which line to stand in.” With that he rang the bell and in stepped Babu.

He told Babu that he was not going to conduct any more examinations after her, pointing to the bigger girl lying down. She shifted a little clearly uncomfortable with our gaze, knowing that she would now be the focus of our attention. The gilrs seemed to draw strength from each other and felt more at ease in a group.

Dr. Rohan I guess knew this and told the attendant Babu to send in the next three girls standing in line behind the curtain.

This clearly showed as relief on her face. Babu nodded and turned to leave with the younger girl. “Theen ladiki under jhao!”(Three girls go inside!!) barked Babu, once he was behind the curtain. And as they we crowding into the room Rohan turned his attention to the elder girl, looking at the clipboard in his hand – and said “Nam?” (Name?)

“Shanah!” She replied raising her head a little.

I was now looking at the new lot that had walked in. All of the were stark naked. Two of them were fair and had Nepali features and the third was an Indian tribal with a darkish skin. All of them looked awkward, standing there with hands crossed over their crotch.

I looked away and turned my attention towards Dr. Rohan. He had by now finished with the preliminaries, eyes, ears, nose, throat and hair. He asked the girl to lie on her stomach and draw her knees up. She looked at me and turned away sulkily. Now on her hands and knees she had her posterior practically in my face.

Dr. Rohan turned and asked me, “Do you know how to read a thermometer?”

“What?” I wasn’t sure what he was talking about.

“Do you know how to read ones of these?” he asked holding up an old fashioned thermometer in his hand.

“Well er, yes I suppose I could,” I said looking doubtful.

“Then here you are,” he said handing it to me with the clip board. “Remember not to insert it more than this far…” he showed me, indicating a place just after the a large nodule in the glass tube. There seemed to be a good three inches to be inserted and the nodule seemed pretty large to me.

“Use the Vaseline liberally and use the gloves if you feel squeamish, I will be right with you.” With that he left the room.

I stood there for a minute stunned, but regained my composure, then turned to Shana and for the first time took a really unrestricted look at her. There she was on her hands and knees. She was looking at the pillow underneath her waiting for instructions.

I told her to fold her hands and put her head down, which she did. As I directed my attention to her behind I could feel her anticipation. She shifted to see if the other girls were watching.

They were not only watching but were smiling nervously, not quite sure if they too were going to have to experience this ordeal. But this was no comfort for Shana, her bottom now quivering and her thighs now twitching. She knew now that her exposure was complete, I had by now drawn her knees apart as far as possible and with a little pressure with the flat of my hand on her back she lowered the arch of it. She was in a perfect knee chest position with her bottom stuck up in the air, her vagina protruding out below at eye level. Because of her position the lips were parted. Through this chink I could see the clit jutting out like a little tongue being stuck out at me mockingly.

For the first time I was now able to look at this girl without having to look away. I was so excited that my hands were shaking.