It was well past midday when Govind steered his truck out of the refrigerated warehouse in Pataudi. The loaders had been slow and it had taken him all morning to get the loaders to do what they had to do. A sort of frustration had crept up within him. Usually a man of cool demeanour, today was one of those days he really was feeling blue – short of temper and grossly irritable.
While waiting for the loading to finish he wondered why? Was it due to that scrap he had with his wife while starting for this road trip , who had insisted that Geetanjali should not be allowed to go to University in Jabalpur but rather enrol in the local college till a match was found for her ? Or was it the issue of the upcoming EMI for his refrigerated truck or the two lakhs he had loaned to his maternal uncle despite his wife’s warning not to ….
Setting the temperature in the payload section to 4 degrees Celsius he tried to shake off the negatives by putting on his favourite Bhajan Mala CD and they were on their way. The Eastern Peripheral brought them out of NCR with ease and very soon that awful mood had vanished too, giving way to humming under his breath which signalled to young man Vishal that life had returned to near normal in the cabin! A quick stop for a tasty meal and gupshup with Nirmal at his dhaba past Kosi Kalan and they were soon driving into the sunset – destination Patancheru. The Bhajans had given way to Vishal‘s favourite FM channel which belted all the latest racy numbers when news of the Prime Minister addressing the nation started to get broadcast. Panic set in and Govind swerved to the side of the road and hastily parked. Quickly counting all the cash on themselves resulted in fifteen Rs 2000 notes, eleven Rs 500 notes and a few hundreds apart from loose change. Hope there is not another note-bandi Ustaad ji ? Unable to answer, Govind dialled home to check with Sarla – count the notes you have and let me know asap. Sarla in the midst of making chapatties for dinner could barely manage a ‘Jee’ while continuing rolling her pin. Meanwhile, Govind got back onto the road but his mind was galloping elsewhere ….
By about 8 pm Govind remarked loudly that other trucks were seemingly pulling into dhabas earlier than usual. Having had a late lunch he was in no mood to stop with that trauma of those bunch of slow-moving labourers returning that bitter taste in his mouth. All he wanted right now was a quick return trip to Jabalpur, offload and rush to Sihora to give finality on Geetanjali’s future. He deep pressed the pedal as if in assertion to his thoughts.
A nationwide lock down – it was as if lightning had struck the cabin itself. They had swerved off the asphalt and were in the middle of virtually nowhere when those words came over the radio. Neither could explain anything to the other , 21 days of lock down meaning no driving or was that OK ,Vishal asked ? Despite his experience of decades on the road, Govind for the first time was short of words. Various things flashed by his eyes …. EMI, Geetanjali, the frozen food payload in the truck, 4 degrees Celsius, two bars down on the fuel tank gauge …. First things first, as his initial master had always instructed when he had joined him as a Cleaner on the Jabalpur- Mumbai circuit – tel (fuel), paani(water) aur khaana(food) – the three essentials of a good highway driver. He moved the gear shift and got back however not revving it up – look for a fuel station on either side he told Vishal. Twenty minutes or so brought them to a Bharat Petroleum COCO – Govind thanked the Divine and hastily pulled up. Three others were ahead of him at that bunk. By the time his turn came, all eight dispensers had a long queue extending almost to the edge of the highway and growing …. Paying up he enquired from the attendant what the news was ? Either stay put with us nearby or if you can make it home go there – that’s what the Manager told me to tell customers like you …. Pulling out of the way for others, he moved out of the Pump precincts to park again. They pulled out the other 20 litre blue coloured water jerrycan and ran to fill it from the tap, returned to check on the potatoes, onions and stuff which they had picked up short of Pataudi as also the shiny steel boxes dutifully recycled with Atta, Rice and lentils by Sarla each trip – she had forgotten to put in more vegetable oil though . Having barely had two occasions to cook since leaving home – both meals on the day of the Janta curfew when they were stuck at Zirakpur, the levels were quite satisfying for a normal trip but here it was T-W-E-N-T-Y O-N-E days – no way this can last us for even just one meal per day, Govind remarked.
There is still two hours to go for midnight, Vishal said, shall we push ahead, maybe a better place where one can stay at a dhaba or something …. – the bugger wants a charpoy . Govind’s pulse was racing at levels which pounded his temples. Nesting alongside the pump would enable easy replenishment of diesel once diminished – the load would be safe – but there was no way the food stuff would last. Going back in time he recollected the sacred duty of a truck driver – to protect the payload from harm’s way as if it’s were one’s own – his first ustaad always used to say so …
The sudden shrillness with which his mobile rang startled them both out of their thoughts. It was Pandey Sahib from Pataudi – a good man who always sought to ask about his folks back home too. This trip he had sought his counsel for Geetanjali, elated when his decision for her had got an affirmation.
Kahan ho bhai Govind ….?
( to be continued ….)