Mundra Or Mandya, A Driver Is A Driver

The rustic beauty of Tornagallu is still vivid in my memory. The roads, fields, avenue trees the hills and hillocks painted red by nature. An iron ore mines area. Small little hamlets thrown into the tumultuous uproar of the tipper trucks. Young drivers in their early thirties literally flying these tippers unmindful of the consequences of safety or the cascading effects on their health.

- Raghuram Sharma

Now, I am in the port town of Mundra. And what a contrast. Well laid out roads in and around the port area. Hills and hillocks are replaced by the omnipresent massive containers carried by truck trailers. Well-lit surroundings. Automated loading and unloading process.

The same age group young drivers, driving their giant vehicles merrily to make trips up and down the port. Mostly migrants from the distant states of Bihar, Jharkhand and Uttar Pradesh. Security of the person and the cargo is well taken care of but talking about the safety of the driver, it is a debatable point.

Amid all these contrasting scenarios the one thing that is common is the driver. Stark similarity despite the contrasting backdrop. Yes, he is a typical Indian truck driver. My appetite for the real story is huge and it makes me interact with these souls of a different breed.

It was like any other day in the precincts of one of the many Container Freight Service yards in Mundra. Usually cheerful and composed Ansari was sitting lost in his thoughts. His tea cup was crying for attention. I put my hand on his shoulder and greeted him. He was startled. Almost dropping the cup from his hand, he composed himself and greeted me back. But I could trace the creases of his worry line crisscrossing his forehead.

“Ansari mia, kya pareshani hai hamein bhi to batao”, I enquired concerningly.

“Sir, kuch khas nahi, chorey ko lekar chinta hai”, said Ansari with a deep sigh.