Off-track

Take the case of Mahendra Singh (29) and Binkle Singh (20).

Hailing from Gwalior in Madhya Pradesh,they are among the remaining few of the 1,700-strong workforce,who are living at the makeshift labour camp at the Buddh International Circuit,slogging round-the-clock to ensure the venue was ready for the much-touted race.

Before October 30,despite sharing the same 12×12 tin-shed room,they hardly used to see each other; now,with almost nothing to do — and only a handful co-workers around — they share laughs,snap at each other,eat food and often sit quiet without saying anything. Life with too much work was difficult; without that,in what now looks like a ghost town of a camp,it’s maddening.

“We used to get up sometimes as early as three in the morning,” says Mahendra,who helped in erecting the mobile fencing around the track. A receding hairline and creases on his forehead make him look considerably older than what he is. His experience at the labour camp has made him wiser too.

“Any late,and you would have to stand in a long queue in front of the toilets,” he says.

After freshening up,they would go back to the ‘rooms’ and catch about an hour or so of sleep,before reporting at the office at eight. “Except for a lunch break at 12,we didn’t have time to even catch a breath till six in the evening,” recalls Mahendra.

In his Bundelkhandi accent,Binkla adds,“The company paid twice as much per hour for extra work. We happily worked overtime”.

It was always midnight when they would call it a day.

On race day,they manned the fence and needed to ensure that if any car rammed into the wall,they repaired it in quick time. “No major accidents happened,and we enjoyed the race,” says Binkle,gleaming with excitement. He had never even heard of F1 until three months ago; now,he tells you,he has seen Red Bull winning the race.

“But it would have been better if it was a cricket match,” Mahendra butts in. “Red Bull started first and finished first. All I could see was cars zipping past. A cricket match lasts at least four to five hours. And you know what’s happening. But it was good. I enjoyed it,” he says.

Daily life is considerably easier for them now,but it’s incredibly boring.

“We still have to report at nine as we’re still on the company’s payroll. Nearly 1,500 who have left were hired by contractors,” informs Mahendra. “Mostly we come back here after loitering around inside the premises or to the nearby villages such as Dankaur. By the time we are back,it’s lunch. We rest in the park after eating,until they turn on the sprinklers and tell us to move from there. We talk to our families in the evening and watch movies on the phone in the night,” he says.

So how long will this routine continue? Their semi-blank stares suggest that they have only a rough idea. “We were told that in a couple of days,we will be given our dues for the last month and will be shifted to a new place,” says Binkle,before explaining what lies ahead,literally. “The company is building a cricket stadium now,just a few yards away from the track. The work will start in January,and we are told to wait till then. In the meantime,they have said,we will be paid our regular daily wages – Rs 300 a day.”

Mahendra,however,wants this period of uncertainty to end soon. “I don’t know how long it will last. We didn’t get an off during the last three months,but now we have all the time in the world and we are not liking it. I miss work. But what can one do,” he says.

The workers had become so tuned to the mammoth construction work that they say their ears are still ringing. “Sometimes it’s scary to be here. I am told it used to be the place where the villagers would burn their dead,” he said.

An uncomfortably long silence follows,broken by a suggestion by Mahendra: “Khaali dimaag mein faaltu baatein hi aayengi (an idle mind is the devil’s workshop). Let’s go and eat. And then we will watch the new Salman Khan movie today.”