In the heart of darkness

Then comes the blast. On their haunches and away from the dislodged lumps,the miners stare into the darkness,soaking in a day’s work. “No point going in now. Let the dust settle,” murmurs someone.

Life underground

At the beginning of the incline into a colliery that forms part of the 63 active mines of Bharat Coking Coal Limited (BCCL) in the Jharia coalfields in Jharkhand’s Dhanbad district,Amit is going through his Monday morning blues.

He is still goofing around with co-workers at 9 a.m. outside the mine when the senior overman for the shift asks him about the explosives. “This is your job. Don’t forget that this is our bread. At least keep your equipment safe,” he says in Bhojpuri,more chide than warning.

So,at nine,an hour after his shift was scheduled to begin,Amit trudges back in search of his gelignite sticks and detonator. Shy smile intact.

“He’s a kid. He joined only a year-and-a half ago. We all keep advising him to get married. Then he will be more careful with his life,and ours,” says Dilip Mandal,threading his leather belt through the loops of his headlamp’s lead-acid battery.

There are no uniforms here. Miners get to take their hard hats and shoes given by their company,BCCL,home. Headlamp batteries are recharged at a BCCL facility at the colliery. Only a few miners wear protective gloves. Some even go shirtless. Amit,who finds the canvas shoes with protective metal caps given by BCCL “uncomfortable”,wears a pair of cheap leather shoes to work. Madhu Bhuiyan,on the other hand,has bought gumboots for Rs 350 after he found out that,“the BCCL shoes are useless as we go deeper. The water seeps in.”

The babel of Bhojpuri,Bangla and Maithili fades away as the first orders of the day are given at 9.10 a.m. Hindi takes over as the officers start to speak. Headlamps are turned on and miners walk onto the incline in groups. Dilip pauses briefly before a Kali shrine at the entrance. “Our wives start worrying if we are even five minutes late getting home. God is everything here,” he murmurs before walking into the mine.

The miners walk on,gingerly avoiding a stream of water here and soggy ground there. A tunnel to the left and right every 100 feet. Then,after every 100 feet into them,another junction. There is coal everywhere—in the walls,on the roof and beyond too. “There is a mine under us and two more above us. We are excavating the first seam,” says Harender Yadav. Those in the mine underneath take lifts to work.

There is a pause in the walk down,to let the empty mine car—called a loose—change tracks at a junction. “Sit away from the walls,” warns Dilip. “Coal lumps are always falling off.” Somewhere in the distance,the car clangs as it goes off the rails. The hauling machine,what the miners call a tiger,persists. Dilip is a ‘hurrier’ whose pay is decided by the frequency of the car. “Harender and I are in charge of making sure the loaded loose is sent out as quickly as possible. We get a basic salary,and additional pay that depends on the number of times the loose has gone up,” he says. BCCL employs 64,000 people in the Jharia fields. They are paid monthly,daily or on a piece rate.

Changes in the coalfields

The miner—as he was once understood and shown in a stirring statue near the Dhanbad Railway Station,with a shovel over his left shoulder and a bamboo basket beside him—is already a figure of the past.

“There are no designated miner-loaders among us. The machines have taken over since 2009. We do not have to use our hands anymore,” says Prakash Singh,a General Mazdoor (labourer).

There are a few specialists: cablemen to ensure that the electrical wires leading up to the Side Discharge Loaders and drills do not get entangled,fitters who repair anything,and those in charge of blasting. The General Mazdoor,on the other hand,is the Rahul Dravid in these parts: he drills,operates machines and steps in to do whatever his team wants.

Prakash Singh,who entered a coal mine for the first time 10 years ago as an 18-year-old after he was given his father’s job,is fond of saying every so often,“Half of Jharia lives underneath.”

Jharia got its interesting underground life after 1894,when coal mining began here. Then an underground coal fire was spotted at Bhaura village in 1916,making the town more famous for its inferno than the fine bituminous coal that sustains it over 8.9 square kilometres across 67 spots now.

Little changed until 2010,when the Rs 7,112-crore Jharia Action Plan to move out villagers began to kick in. A total of 79,159 houses to rehabilitate villagers were proposed to be constructed over 10 years starting 2009. As of now,only 2,352 houses have been built at Belgharia,10 km away,and 1,132 families have been shifted.

A number of those who have left Jharia for good since 2010 are finding out that they can’t stay away. Those like Ram Avtar keep coming back daily to a smouldering Jharia.

“Where we have been relocated,we can’t find work. Belgharia is too far away from everything.” So,he takes the 5 a.m. bus to Jharia and proceeds to scavenge coal from the New Jharia colliery.

You know Jharia’s existence as a town is in trouble when a senior functionary of the organisation called the Save Jharia Samiti admits that Jharia cannot be saved. “They realise that the cost of shifting out an entire town will be offset by the valuable coal underneath. The BCCL is all-powerful,determined. Before it,we feel insignificant,” says a person associated with the Samiti.

According to the Samiti,Jharia is not lost yet. “Unlike popular perception,all of Jharia is not under fire. The BCCL is not doing anything to mitigate the fire. The only thing they did recently to control the fire was to initiate a 2006-approved plan to begin trench-cutting near the RSP (Raja Shiv Prasad) College,” says Ashok Agarwal,executive president of the Samiti.

Jharia’s future may be shrouded in uncertainty but for the miners things are looking up. “I remember a time when miners were paid three rupees a day. There used to be incentives for those who excavated more coal. In fact,there would be competitions. The record remains 19 tonnes by a miner for a shift,” says T N Singh,former director of the Dhanbad-based Central Mining Research Institute,now called the Central Institute of Mining and Fuel Research. There are few complaints about pay now. Dilip earns as much as Rs 40,000 in a good month; Madhu Bhuiyan started with a Rs 20,000 salary.

There are virtually no new jobs though,with BCCL opting to open more open-cast mines of late. A spokesman for the company could not give exact numbers but said that of the total 78 mines it operated,open casts made up almost 70 per cent.

Working underground

Inside the mine,the rail car finally gets onto the tracks and hurtles ahead loudly. The men communicate with complex signals evolved over time. There are two metal wires running along the left-hand-side as one walks into the mine. Making them come into contact causes a bell to ring. “One bell is for the loose to stop. Two for a loosening of the haulage and four for all clear to haul,” says Dilip.

There are nine tubs for every loose. Just about a tonne or more gets loaded into every tub each trip. On a good shift,the rail car makes as many as three trips up the incline. “That’s Rs 50,000 every three hours for this,” says Dilip.

Up ahead,a Side Discharge Loader comes to life. Once a shift starts in full flow,the hum of SDLs is everywhere. Sometimes,they can creep up on you,moving out of the shadows in the last moment with their deceptive economy of movement. Moral of the story: never play hide-and-seek with an SDL.

Dilip decides to pick on a cableman,just to show that he can. “Meet one of our oldest workers. Well over 50 and happy with his two wives.” The man,wearing a vest and trousers,is sitting on the floor,clearly tired. He smiles and clarifies: “One here and one in Bihar.”

“Overground,he would be like my father,but inside the mine,all are the same. We cannot afford to have hierarchies here. You never know when trouble comes. Then,the person nearest to you is the only hope,” says Anand Prasad Rai,another of the three that make up Dilip’s team.

An officer comes around with a map of the mine,drawn onto a cloth. With hundreds of little square and rectangles on it,it looks like the reference map of a video game. He points to one of the junctions: “We are here. About 2,200 feet away from the tunnel mouth and 200 feet under the ground.” No one knows for how long the mine has been operational,but it was when the BCCL took over in 1972. Only half the cloth has been mapped even after all these years.

At 200 feet under,miners have a favourite hangout. “There is a sturdy pillar behind. It is sufficiently distant from the wall and is neither too far away nor too close to where work is progressing,” says Amit.

Three hurriers,four blasters and two fitters were around,along with an Overman. Then everyone turns off their headlamps for a moment,just to introduce darkness.

“I forged my documents to join just after I turned 16,” says Dilip. “My father was a BCCL employee. I had to take up the job after he was declared unfit.”

Harender and Amit have similar stories—they joined after the death of their fathers. “BCCL does not hire anymore,so whoever joins anew is the son of a dead man,” says Dilip.

There is to be blasting near pillar 24. Four men struggle to hold on to a drill. It resists any movement,wobbling when it comes in contact with the rock-face,throwing up shards in every direction. There is a lot of sweat and grunting. Frustration too. One of the four men shouts out to another,“Where are you pulling it to? Bombay?” That cracks everyone up.

Sixteen holes have been drilled in three rows for Amit to start his work. Groups of four gelignite sticks go into the top row,bunches of three into the bottom. Halfway through,Amit steps back to let Shashi Nayak take over. “My mother died last year. She used to work in the open-cast mines,” Nayak mumbles,struggling with connecting the charges. He has been on the job for six months and is still learning the ropes. “At the training institute,the master asks us to get a litre of milk to his house,” says Nayak,a smile appearing in the corners of his eyes. “And to pick up his kids from the railway station,” adds Amit from the darkness.

Then,barely five minutes later,comes the blast. Even as the earth continues shaking,a miner leans across and whispers,“These headlamps and blasts won’t let you sleep the first few days. You will feel as if someone is in your dreams,flashing a light across your eyes during an earthquake.”

And as one has discovered since,he was not joking.

(Some names have been changed to protect identity. Exact location of the underground mine too has been masked.)