On the Highway to Hell

At Fauji da Dhaba somewhere near Patiala, Sukhdev Singh, 53, laments the lack of prospects in the profession. ‘‘I’ve been driving trucks for the last 30 years. You start as a rookie, as a conductor, and graduate to being a driver. Even after all these years, I still don’t have the money to buy my own truck,’’ he rues. But then his face lights up. ‘‘Actually, that’s not strictly true. I’ve just got promoted — my employer’s put me in charge of the crew of 30 trucks. I have to get their challans back, take care of the wear and tear and other needs of all the mundas (drivers).’’

Sitting next to him, Balwinder, 23, takes a swig from a bottle of beer and chips in, ‘‘Oh ji, ae taan kuttain vargi zindagi hai (It’s a dog’s life). Although I’m still not married, I haven’t been home for two months now. There is nothing to look forward to, except for kukkad aur daaru (chicken and alcohol) before sleep.

‘‘Even after I get married, I won’t be able to spend time with my wife. Because I’m paid a fixed sum of Rs 6,000 per month, my employer would ask me to sit at

his place even if there is no work.’’

But he has learnt a few lessons from the likes of Sukhdev Singh. ‘‘I already have Rs 60,000 in the bank, another four years, and I will have doubled my savings. Then, I will buy a second-hand truck, employ a driver and enjoy life with my wife,’’ says Balwinder with a grin.

So far, so good. But ask them about drunken driving and unsafe sex and all the drivers go into a shell. ‘‘Ji asin taa Sufi bande haan (We are saintly people),’’ says Jita, who has been driving trucks for two years now. ‘‘In fact, it is the izzatdar, educated people who return drunk from parties, drive holding the hands of their beloved and bang their Marutis and Santros into trucks and trollies. Most truck accidents happen when the driver dozes off or the opposite party is at fault. All these charges against us truck-drivers are false.’’

But Kaka, 25, who has been quiet all this while, admits that most truckers are pretty careless about their sex lives. ‘‘Especially the men on the long-distance route. Some are still ignorant about the possible ailments, while others just take it easy,’’ says the youth who hails from a small village in Jalandhar.

Although the law now requires every driver to carry a condom in his first aid box or risk getting challaned, few truckers ever bother about precautions. ‘‘However, things are changing. Drivers are beginning to realise that it is their families that suffer if pick up the AIDS virus,’’ says Kaka.

If opinions vary on that count, there’s unanimity when you ask them about the chief drawback of their profession. ‘‘I have four children,’’ says Sukhdev, ‘‘and I cannot tell you in which classes they study. But then, I don’t stay away from them for fun. It’s part of my job and my wife and children understand this.’’

In between sips of desi daru, he adds, ‘‘But there are moments when emotions rule. I remember once my youngest daughter simply refused to let me go for work. She cried for two hours and the other children also joined in. And I simply couldn’t leave.’’

Long distances, loneliness, accident risks are all things they can handle, but emotions are something they’d rather do without. ‘‘I remember the first time I ran over a dog. I was just overcome by guilt, and my ustad advised me to have a few pegs of desi to forget it,’’ says Jitta. Policemen are another pet peeve. ‘‘They stop us for no reason. So we either get challaned or have to pay a bribe out of our own pockets,’’ complains Narinder, 27.

The night’s getting on, but on the highway, the trucks refuse to slow down. The group breaks up, one is headed for Delhi, another for Amritsar, a third for Gwalior. That’s life.