Sex, Sleep & Sustenance, the same, yet…
బ్రహ్మమొక్కటె పర — బ్రహ్మమొక్కటె
పరబ్రహ్మమొక్కటె పర బ్రహ్మమొక్కటె
Can you read this? You can’t. No issues.
Okay, try this Romanized version:
Brahmamokkate Parabrahmam okkate
Parabrahmamokkate Parabrahmamokkate. (1)
Still, you’re unable to comprehend. No worries.
Telugu Saint Annamacharya (1408–1503 AD) composed these powerfully evocative lyrics, preaching equality among all individuals. I had no idea when social disparity began to manifest, but it has existed for ages if sociologists and anthropologists were to be believed. (2)
I read through the five stanzas of Annamacharya’s “we-are-all-one” themed philosophical folksong, followed by listening to the soulful recital by versatile Carnatic musicians, (3) the image of social disparity between white-collar owners and babus of the transport ecosystem and the lowliest truck drivers pops up instantly. Such an ugly divide exists across society, though Indian Constitution loftily dwells on equality for citizens in political, social, and civic spheres.
One does not need Annamacharya to tell us that sleep is the same for all; the earth we inhabit is the same for all; the sexual pleasure for all; the day and night are equal. Commonsensical.
The social disparity or inequity between transporters and truck drivers is so transparent that it almost escapes attention. On rare occasions, such as the Drivers’ Day Celebrations on September 17 every year, these two 100% mutually dependent stakeholders congregate to lecture, give away some token gifts and conclude with a sumptuous bhojan.
Mind you, the better-offs occupy a raised dais in ornamental chairs. If not, same ground level but at a distance. No issues. Winners under various categories are called out, and gifts are handed out. Well, both parties are at arm’s distance because the gift has to be given by one party and taken by the other party. That’s the time they come closer to each other. Perhaps that is the only time they are at a “striking distance”!
What is worth observing is the behavior of both parties once the food stall opens up. Either two separate food pavilions are set up: one for drivers and the other for whom you know. Or, one food pavilion, but the better-offs pick and fill their plates and move away before drivers are allowed. No mixing.
The food is the same. No difference. But drivers and their maliks don’t stand together in the queue at the food stall, nor do they occupy the same table to partake in lunch. One set observe table etiquette. The other, don’t. This difference in table manners is cited as the rationale for maintaining a social distance. “When they get adequately educated on this manners, we can think of togetherness,” told a “learned” motormalik. Will it happen? Maybe. May not be.
On a rainy afternoon in 2011, we halted at a highway hotel for lunch on a truck trip with Mahindra tractors for delivery to Dharwad, Karnataka, from the Kandivli plant. We chose this eatery because its parking space was huge and empty. No sooner did we climb out of the driver’s cabin than two sepoys of the eatery came running with sticks, simultaneously shouting at us to take the truck out of the parking yard.
They contended that the eatery was not meant for truck drivers but for educated and well-dressed. Footfalls and drive-ins will vanish if trucks are sighted outside eateries. Status consciousness. Social disparity, yes. A verbal wrangle and a call to the nearest police station led to the eatery, permitting us (two drivers and self) to occupy the table at a remote corner where our visibility would be 100%. The service was quick because they wanted us to exit quickly. “Did I not tell you we should not go there?” the senior driver demanded. They are aware. I too. But I was testing the fragile social fabric of our society.
Nonetheless, I had pleasant experiences on two occasions. In July 2013, Mahindra Logistics hosted a full-fledged luncheon for 30-odd truck drivers servicing them in their office canteen (see above). The company’s CEO, wife, and senior colleagues joined the lunch under the same roof and shared the same food. Later I would learn that it was the first time truck drivers servicing Mahindra group gained entry into the office canteen. Never before. Never after.
In September 2021), the European multinational Saint Gobain conducted Drivers Day Utsav at its Ankaleswar plant and hosted lunch for the participating drivers at its corporate canteen (see above). One-off, I presume.
In this age of outsourcing, all big corporates tendered out the transportation of their inbound and outbound logistics. On any day, at least 50-odd trucks would be waiting for unloading materials brought from elsewhere. Why not give access to the corporate canteen to these weakest supply chain links? The food is there. So supply is not a challenge. There is an extra demand for food from the waiting truckers servicing the company under the scanner.
If drivers’ appearance/wardrobe is cringeworthy or unacceptable, why not pack and serve instead of wasting the unused food. (If the canteen contractor recycles, it is altogether a different issue!) This show of kindness towards fellow inhabitants would save drivers’ time cooking their food inside the driver’s cabin or under the cargo holding belly, a safety risk.
This action is doable and cheap. The outcome would be a better driver relationship mechanism, a plus for the 3PLers. By and by, Saint Annamacharya would be thrilled to the core at the “generosity” of the white-collar tribe of India Inc. Otherwise, all the talk of wanting to change the behavior of truck drivers is pure hogwash. Bunkum. Kapish?
Ref:
(1) http://annamayya-u.blogspot.com/2009/04/tandanaana-ahi-brahmamekkate-para.html
