On the road to Sabarmati-7
Gandhis galore in India. People with that surname, I mean. Main thoroughfares in many cities bear the name of the Father of the Nation.
Honestly, most have nothing to do with the Mahatma directly or indirectly. Many ride on the reflected glory of that celebrity non-violence preacher-cum-freedom fighter. Trying to garner political mileage.
So, it does not surprise me when the tribal chef at a highway dhaba responds to my request for his name: “Gandhi!” His beatific smile floors me. Blissful, indeed. That kind of smile only newborns shows before the environment sucks them into our tricky world.
Earlier in the day, our maiden touchpoint was the Madhya Pradesh integrated check post on NH47 after leaving Nagpur post-breakfast end-September.
Freight Tiger Sudhir Kumar quietly cottoned onto RTO Pankaj at the checkpost after the rest of the team scooted out for a one-on-one chat. The young officer graciously engages the bearded Sudhir, who is young but deeply connected with the trucking segment.
A few kilometers later, we notice a highway truckers’ dhaba with two trucks. Driver Raju alias Razack smoothly veers to the dhaba, christened “Fauji Dhaba.”
It is almost empty. We notice a senior driver and his kalasi near the tail lights of one of the trucks parked chatting. Another driver is busy inside the driver cabin, tinkering with something.
“Chai?” I ask no one in particular.
A few “Hmm” reach my eardrums, and I move into the kitchen area.
There he was. Red-knickered and blue-collarless Tee shirt with a broad and infectious smile.
“Chai milega?”
Jee! he responds.
Naam kya hai?
Gandhi!
Chakne ke liye kuch hai?
He smiles. There are no snacks. Not even biscuits.
Chai, yes.
Five teas were ordered.
Toilet hai kya?
Gandhi laughs and points to the huge green backyard.
A damaged red Hyundai vehicle is parked amid the fields. I look around for a proper toilet. I notice someone engaged in bio-leaking and muttering some soulful Hindi film tune to my left. I complete my mission and return to the forecourt.
A quick ‘namaste” opens up the communication barrier. Tell me, who does not like to talk to? We are a talkative and argumentative nation, said Nobel laureate Amartya Sen.
Surjit, Darshan, and Rohit are from Punjab, ferrying soil cutter machines for Maharashtra.
Fresh from our RTO interaction a few minutes earlier, Sudhir shared the inputs. Darshan refutes allegations that proper documents are available online about the load he carries; corruption reigns supreme. “They will find one excuse or other to fleece you,” adds Surjit.
Surprisingly, they concede that corruption on highways is on the decline. Better days ahead, they predict.
Young Rohit from Rohtak, Haryana, is being groomed as a truck driver under the watchful eyes of Darshan and Surjit. He gets to drive at night with seniors monitoring him. Does such a non-classroom type driver train good for Rohit? Darshan bats that they would train him for two years before he applies for a driving license and takes up a full-time career.
Just not Rohit. Several other youngsters from remote villages in India look at truck driving as a career. They see a better and brighter future steering trucks instead of studying in school and pursuing a different career path.
Rohit is not an exception. More such exist and keep joining the ranks and become the unappreciated backbone of the Indian economy, feeding 1.3billion mouths. Mera Bharat Mahaan!
Gandhi reappears with a plate containing paper cups filled with garam chai as we chat with Fauaji Dhaba, third-gen educated owner, Amandeep Singh. The dhaba has existed for sixty years, and soon he would demolish this trucker-friendly facility and shift closer to the bypass coming up. “We won’t close shop and go home. Fauji Dhaba will exist in a new place, closer to the bypass,” adds he.
Chai garam. Mausam suhana. We had our fill of gyan. Drivers are glad that they found a listening post. What more can one ask for? Nonetheless, someone raises a query: Why you talk to drivers? Talk to me. I will tell their tales. Sudhir responds with a classic “We need no intermediaries and want to hear from horse’s mouth!” Masterstroke!
Razack finishes his chai and occupies the driver’s seat, signaling it is time to move to the next destination. Where? No idea. Maybe the next dhaba. No clue as of now. Directionless? No. We are on a discovery mission. Mostly to validate our notions and seek fresh insight into the psyche of long-haul truck drivers. Directly. It may appear silly. What’s new these drivers tell you? Same story. We beg to disagree.
Desh badal raha hai. Drivers are optimistic. More than us, the cursed, educated lot.
