30,000 to 30,001 Km

If the first km was in a car carrier, this time too, it was the same.

This time the km ride was in Manesar, closer to Maruti Suzuki unlike the maiden one on a November 2010 afternoon near Hyundai Motors in Chennai.

This time, the security guard flagged me off with no pomp & glory. (Actually, he opened the gate for the empty vehicle to exit).

The Mewati sarati Mohammad Sarif was heading to Honda Motors, 40–50 km in Rajasthan for a load to an yet undeclared destination.

Sarif, father of four kids, was categorical that his sons won’t… You know the rest!

Why did he choose trucking? Well, it was not his first choice. He tried his hands in textile. Man nahi lag raha tha.

The freedom and exhilaration truck driving bestows is incomparable. “Ek Baar load kadam hua aur trip advance mil gaya, woh majayi alag hai,” avers the knicker-cum-collarless T-shirt sporting Sarif.

Marji ki malik hai!

They are the asli decision-makers: when to start the day? When to end the day? Where to stop? What to eat? If their home happens to be on the delivery route, how many nights they can spend with their family? (GPS /DMS/ADAS has no control on this aspect).

Morally and ethically, neither the fleet owner nor the OEMs have any say. They cannot force drivers. Why?

Unlike the white collar babus in fleet-owning companies or OEMs’ sales & dispatchwalas who enjoy weekends, holidays for festivals (Diwali, Holi, Ramzan, Christmas, Gandhi Jayanti, Republic Day, etc. and sick/casual and privilege leave) and fixed working hours, drivers enjoy no such luxury.

Like the cattle tethered to the gate or tree or whatever, drivers are “tethered” to their trucks. They eat. They work. They sleep inside trucks. The motorised horse is their home away from home. Not to be forgotten they are away from home mostly.

Therefore, none can deny their desire to spend a night or two at their home if it happens to be on the delivery route in either direction. Of course, they ensure vehicles and cargo safety when they leave it at one of their trustworthy highway dhabas or fuel stations nearer home during their absence.

I look around Sarif’s Tata BS6 cabin. Nothing unusual except the angle of his reclining seat. That reminds me of my daughter who again adopts a similar seating arrangement. I cannot. For me, it is perpendicular. 90 degrees. “I am sure you don’t cherish your driving,” she teases me.

Why did the Drivers Day gift remain in the cabin a week after it was distributed? Sarif said he had recently returned from Rudrapur with a Tata Motors load for delivery in Kundli, Haryana, and spent a day or two at his Mewat home. He returned this morning and leaving for Honda Motors for another trip.

Perhaps he was absent on September 17 — the day of the Drivers Day function — so he collected the gift that day and tucked it inside his cabin for possible home delivery sometime soon. I did not broach the subject further. Aren’t we aware that he is the decision-maker? Just leave it at that. Household items are sensibly chosen by the company. Parivar connect!

Why Sarif is not wearing his seatbelt? I don’t hesitate to ask him. He responds with a hearty laugh.

There is still a lot of misconception that seat belt wearing is “unsafe”. What drivers mean is that in case of mishaps, they may not be able to extricate themselves quickly from the seat thus jeopardising their lives. That’s not true. Yet, that sentiment prevails. Habits die hard.

The fear of being penalised by police with a hefty sum alone ensures drivers wear safety belts. That happens onlyl when trucks enter city limits where monitoring is visible. I reasoned with Sarif but to no avail.

I look around and notice the lower sleeping berth behind the driver’s seat bears the look of a dump yard. Don’t have they adequate storage facility in their “home away from home?”

Fifteen years ago, trucks had no such sleeping facilities for drivers to rest whenever they wished and for night sleep. They put a wooden plank across the driver and navigator/conductor seat and slept. Comfortable? After a day’s driving in poorly designed cabins (ergonomics? What’s that?) on the Indian road and unfriendly weather conditions, all they required was a flat surface to lay their tired body. It did not matter to them whether the bed was made of wood or cotton.

Noticing my smile, Sarif wants to know why I am smiling. The roof over your head, Sarif!

He does not look up because he knows what is there. Some nice decoration. Nothing at par with the Pakistani artistic ones. Still, Sarif has spent some money to get a better environment in his home away from home!

The one km journey on the narrow passage is about to end. The ride was bad because of the poor road condition.

“It was not like Hema Malini’s cheeks, hai na?” I ask him recalling the famous words of the erstwhile Bihar Chief Minister and former Federal Railway Minister Lalu Prasad Yadav when he expressed what constitutes the best road. On that occasion, he desired the roads to be as smooth as the popular Hindi film star known as “Dream Girl.”

Sarif responds with a smirk.

I alight at the T-junction to continue my journey home. “You climb down. I will hand over your bag and mobile,” he suggests. The ascent as well as the descent were tougher than in the past. After all, age is catching up. Fifteen plus from what I was when my tryst with trucking commenced on a cloudy November 2010 evening from Chennai.

The maiden journey is as fresh as the fake green grass patch decorating Sarif’s dashboard and the engine top.

When will I add more kilometers? I dunno. God willing, you know!

Goodbye, Sarif!