As travellers, train journeys are most memorable. We love the tracks and the trains and cherish fascinating flashbacks of this delightful mode of transportation. The railway station is a temporary home for many wanderers. As we step onto the platform with our luggage trailing behind, the scenario at the station leaves us intoxicated.
Huge clocks hosted atop pillars supporting the roof above reminding us of the time ticking away, the rattling trolleys loaded with bulky bags and cumbersome cartons pulled by the coolies, the hawking chaiwallahs in search of weary travellers, revellers sipping their cuppa chai, a few satiating their hunger pangs tucking steaming idlis and crunchy samosas, passengers settled snug in the cloakroom awaiting their moment of boarding, the flurry of footsteps of the latecomers scurrying over the bridges, voracious readers catching up with the daily dose of news at kiosks sporting newspapers and magazines, and the jaded lot who have stretched over floors and benches to catch a few winks, these and many more form a visual delight to the observers who are there to see off their near and dear ones.
Reckoning force
The quietude at the platform is broken as the voice over the speaker makes an announcement. The announcement is enough to electrify the stillness as porters position themselves, hawkers rush with their goodies and napping passengers gather themselves and their luggage. As the train arrives onto the platform, passengers push themselves into the bogies and after the initial chaos and excitement have died down, they are all settled in their seats. The train slowly chugs away from the platform to embark upon a new journey.
Soon, destinations arrive and passengers part ways carrying pleasant memories of the journeys. This wouldn’t have happened but for the unsung champions, who toil day and night during every halt, to whom a trillion thanks fall insufficient, to ensure that our journeys are safe and sound. Had it not for these angel guardians who play an invisible role in ensuring that our journeys are safe, we would not have been enjoying the rain and the shine. The sweating faces and the toiling hands, their frames drowned in dust and grime. The reckoning force behind our happy journeys are these unknown champions.
Here is a dedicated force of 150 women to reckon with, who are at the helm of affairs at the railway workshop in Mysuru zone. Armed with spanner and spade they manage and maintain the trains and tracks. They ensure that the break lines are faultless, the electrical wiring is in place and the welding has not given away, even as they toil in tandem with their male counterparts.
There are a few more champions manning the railway gates and many more soldiers on the railway tracks. Their grit, enthusiasm and struggle is an inspiration for the others.
These women are entrusted with constant inspection of the railway tracks. As heat leaves the tracks expanded and showers loosen the soil beneath, they see to it that every nut and bolt is in its place, and the tracks do not slip from their position. The gravel between the tracks is evenly spread and the ground underneath is turned sturdy to bear the train’s weight. They alert nearby stations and report technical glitches for slight negligence on their part will be disastrous.
“As a mechanic in the Railway department for the last 15 years, I examine each bogie to ensure that the wheels and break locks are intact. I am entrusted with the responsibility of ensuring that every train is fit for its next journey,” says 45-year-old Sarala Yadav.
The level-crossing gates should be secured before the arrival of each train. They have to shoo away bullock carts driven by adamant owners, keep at bay over-zealous pedestrians and gate-crashing motorists to ensure that the trains can speed away without hindrance.
“I go about the tracks to ensure that the scattered gravel is in its place and the tracks are safe every few metres. I have a set target each day,” says 29-year-old Yashoda.
“I am working here for the past 8 years. The sight of the speeding trains that initially left me stupefied, is now music for my ears and a feast for my eyes. I shudder to think that a slight mistake on my part will risk the lives of lakhs who have reposed their faith in me. I have discharged my duties without a black spot,” expresses 37-year-old Prema.
Let us salute the spirit of these gutsy women.
(Translated by Jyotsna P Dharwad)