Poverty is the biggest crime. There is no law for it, while there should be.
It is a disease in which one human being uses another human being against his will, like domesticated animals, for his hunger and need. He forces him to do all such acts that he would not have done himself, which this so-called civilized society calls terrible, worst, inhuman, unethical, and whatnot. Man cannot be good or bad just for his art of lucid oratory, fashionable, costly clothing, and showing off his human feelings, but these days, these are the only attributes that matter the most.
Few people pretend to serve humans and humanity to use them and their necessities. It has been the same for centuries and will stay the same forever. When people were buying and selling people, they never felt guilt for their inhuman acts or remorse for their actions. Even today, in the name of democracy, they divide people based on caste, creed, and religion for political gains. One can see people with these thoughts in different colors and dresses in every society.
Many people are readily available to sell the cleaning methods, these loaves of bread and butter. It hardly matters to them whether their bread and butter are filled with the blood of innocent people. For a piece of this bread, someone who calls himself an artist sells his conscience. If someone has an excellent knowledge of the law, he compromises for such a piece of bread on the pretext of his professional ethics. Someone relishes such a piece of bread in the name of religion. Few journalists portraying themselves as the absolute Master of History and Social Science eat this piece of bread with pride and dignity.
Human beings talk about the betterment of humanity but keep their tyrannical behavior alive (against which they speak ill) and show off their fight for such injustices. Politicians glorify a personality for their political purpose and necessities. Politicians always say, ” It is the public who helps us win. I am a public servant.”
I saw such a devoted public servant in North Chandameta.
North Chandameta Colliery had two pits. The pit office was near the shaft, by which workers went down for work. Next to the pit office was an attendance room where everyone was getting their attendance marked before going to work. The general shift officers used the pit office in the morning shift. The general shift started at eight o’clock in the morning. One wall of the pit office and attendance office was common. The pit office had big glasses on each wall to keep an eye around the work area. There was a space near the pit office and a road that ran north to south on the east side of this space. There was the workshop on the downside of the road. The Cap lamp room was next to the workshop. Everybody going down the pit was taking his cap lamp from the room.
The token system was there to check the people going down the pit and coming out. Workers, staff, and officers were allocated the cap lamp number to verify the underground presence.
Mine worked in three shifts of eight hours duration each.
By the side of the workshop was a road towards the exhaust pit, over which the exhaust fan was installed. Dirty air from every working place underground was being taken out of the mine by this fan, and fresh air was sent down through another pit. Thus, the fresh air reaches all places of work.
The store used to fulfill day-to-day spare parts requirements of the mine. The store was just below the north-south road leading to the fan house on the north side. In the same row next to the store was a cooperative society store, and then there was a small, fenced garden. The manager’s office was next to the garden. The Bill section was attached to the manager’s office, and then there was a personnel section, canteen, assistant manager, safety officer, and ventilation officer’s office in a row.
The colliery engineer’s office was in one corner of the workshop. The staff’s office was on the south side of the space on the upper side of the north-south road. Here, staff wrote their report in their duty book and passed the information to their counterparts, who were ready for the next shift.
The siding office was in front of the canteen, on the west side of the road. There was a tippler near the siding office. Tippler emptied the loaded coal tubs from the pit in a dumper. The dumper unloaded the coal on the railway siding. Coal was loaded in railway wagon-by-wagon loaders. Siding in charge in his office marked wagon loader’s attendance. Seventy to eighty percent of wagon loaders were women. Most of these wagon loaders were on permanent rolls of the company. Temporary wagon loading workers were engaged by siding in charge when required.
Wagon loaders were very poor people. Women’s conditions among them were pathetic. In their society, whenever a man wished, he could leave his wife and children and get a new wife, which was not considered wrong due to their prevalent system. It was an ordinary matter for them. Due to these habits, drinking, and gambling were commonplace in their society, and most were in debt to private moneylenders. Hunger and poverty were their fate; they were happy and carefree despite this.
After completing my engineering degree, I joined North Chandameta Colliery as an executive trainee. It was a small underground mine producing ten thousand tons of coal monthly. Hardly three to four racks of railway wagon sets were loaded in a month. Apart from the colliery manager, Mr. Jain was the assistant manager, Mr. Sabarwal was a safety officer, and Mr. Khurana was the ventilation officer. There was a labor officer, and I was an executive trainee.
One fine day, at about eight o’clock in the morning, a man of wheatish complexion, well-built, wrestler type, of medium height, wearing a dhoti and kurta, stood at the pit office gate and asked: “Who is Jain here?”
Mr. Jain said, “I am Jain.”
“So, you are Jain.” Dhoti kurta-clad person roared.
Workers assembled outside the pit office in the open space and shouted, “Inqilab, Zindabad (Long live the revolution). Bharat Mata Ki Jai ho (Victory for Mother India).”
A dhoti kurta-clad person told workers to stay silent, and then he told Mr. Jain, “What do you think of yourself? A hero? I will bury you alive here, just now. No one will come to your rescue. How you dare to ill-treat our workers.”
After hearing these words of a dhoti kurta-clad person, a gathering of workers shouted, “Inqilab, Zindabad (Long live the revolution). Jain, Murdabad (Down), Murdabad (Down). Bharat Mata Ki Jai ho (Victory for Mother India).”
With each threatening to Mr. Jain by wrestler type dhoti kurta-clad man, a gathering of workers shouted in a frenzy, ” Jain, Murdabad (Down), Murdabad (Down).”
After threatening Mr. Jain, a dhoti kurta-clad person addressed the gathering of workers “My dear brothers, I have told everything to Jain. After this, if he troubles any of my brother-worker, I promise I will not spare him. It is a warning to other officers as well.”
Workers were shouting in a full frenzy now, “Inqilab, Zindabad (Long live the revolution).”
I saw such a scene for the first time in my life. I was astonished and shocked.
Mr. Sabarwal whispered, “Let us go out of this office.”
I thought the dhoti kurta-clad person would not let us leave the office, but we came out. No one tried to stop us. We went to the manager’s office and sat there. Mr. Sabarwal informed the Manager about the incident at the pit office. He heard it but remained busy with his paperwork.
Both of us sat there. After about fifteen minutes, Mr. Jain entered the manager’s office, red-faced, and sat. The manager just saw him and once again became busy with his paperwork. After about ten minutes of Mr. Jain’s entry into the office, a dhoti kurta-clad person entered Manager’s office. I thought he would create a scene here, but nothing happened. He went near Mr. Jain and sat near him. The manager saw them and remained busy with his work. Dhoti kurta-clad person apologized to Mr. Jain. He said, “Mr. Jain, I am sorry for whatever I told you in the pit office.”
Mr. Jain did not speak a word. Dhoti kurta-clad person kept repeating his words. Mr. Jain remained silent. Then the dhoti kurta-clad person told the manager, “Sir, you, please make him understand. He is angry with me.”
The manager stopped his work and told something to labor officer, then said to Mr. Jain, “Whatever happened today in the pit office, he informed me in advance. I tried to inform you, but your phone was busy, later I went to the pit office and saw his car, so I returned to my office. All these matters are due to the head mason. Rest he will tell you.”
After hearing this, Mr. Jain looked relaxed. It appeared on his face.
Dhoti kurta-clad person held Mr. Jain’s hand and said, “I am not at fault. I informed Sir in advance. Now I hope you are no longer upset with me.”
Mr. Jain was not relaxed yet but said, “Ok, it’s all right.”
Dhoti kurta-clad person continued, “Mr. Jain, your head mason Dinesh Lal is unhappy with you. You have become tough on him. He was continuously complaining about this in our union office. Since it is a time of union membership, I have taken this step. I am sure our members will grow. You will agree that if workers’ ill feelings are addressed, they work better, and management’s fear remains intact. Now you can take work from them in a much better way. Eighty percent of workers is a members of our union in this mine. That’s why I took such steps, but please forget whatever happened today.”
Mr. Jain said, “It’s okay.”
He looked relaxed now. In the meantime, tea was served. Everybody took tea. After taking tea, looking at me, a dhoti kurta-clad person asked Manager, I see a new officer on your team.”
The manager told him about me. Everybody exchanged a few light anecdotes and then went to their work. There was no more discussion on the morning’s incident. Work continued as usual.
After twenty days, wagon loaders went on a wildcat strike (a strike without notice). The siding in charge informed Mr. Sabarwal about this. He was looking after the siding work. After receiving the information, he asked me to come with him. We went to the siding.
We went to the siding office. We saw a small pandal (A marquee) with a siding workers’ union banner when we reached the siding. Most of the women wagon loaders and a few gent wagon loaders were sitting below the pandal (A marquee). When they saw Mr. Sabarwal, they shouted, “Inqilab, Zindabad (Long live the revolution).” Mr. Sabarwal asked the siding to call a wagon loader’s leader for a talk.
Two women came with siding in charge. Both women were lean, thin, and of wheatish complexion. Their hair was full of oil and combed. They had a big vermilion round mark on their forehead and vermilion in the middle of their hair near the forehead. They wore a clean sari and dark red lipstick and were in neat attire contrary to their daily working clothes.
Mr. Sabarwal was a soft-spoken and affectionate person. Most of the workers respected him. Rarely anyone spoke to him in a loud tone. Few people denied his instructions. He asked those two women to sit and then talk. They said, “No sir, we cannot sit before you.”
He asked them, “What is your problem? Why are you on strike?”
“Siding in charge will tell you the reason. Please ask him.” They spoke in unison.
He asked, siding in charge, “What is the matter? Why are they on strike?”
Siding in charge said, “Sir, a new woman has come to work. They are unhappy about that. They don’t want her to work with them.”
“Then don’t allow her to work. What is a problem?” Mr. Sabarwal said.
“But her husband was working here, sir.” Siding in charge said.
“So, she wants to work at her husband’s place?” Mr. Sabarwal asked.
Those two women were observed while he gathered information about that woman from the siding in charge.
“Yes, sir. Her husband was working here. He passed away a few days back.” Siding in charge told.
“Oh! So, this is the problem.” He said.
Then he tried to explain to those two women, “After all, she is a widow. What is your trouble? Think about it if you will allow her to work with you. It will be of help to a poor woman. It is just time before she will be appointed here.”
“Sir, you do not know her. She is a naughty woman. She has taken her husband’s life. If she works with us, she will also take our husband’s life.” One of them said.
“Don’t go on her simpleton’s face. She is a witch.” The second woman said.
“Then, what is the solution,” asked Mr. Sabarwal.
“Stop her from working with us; that is all, or wait for our leader. He will come tomorrow and solve this problem. We cannot go against his decision,” After saying this, both women returned.
When those two women went back, Mr. Sabarwal asked Siding in charge about the woman who was the cause of the dispute.
Siding in charge told him, “She is the widow of one of our permanent workers, a drunkard. He has been sick for the last few weeks. Despite being on medication, he continued taking liquor. Later, he died. Now his widow has come for work. These women are just mudslinging on her character and creating agitation. I am calling her. You may talk to her if you wish.”
The siding in charge called that woman.
After a while, a woman, around twenty-five, draped in a white sari, came to the office. She was a fair-complexioned, lean, and thin woman. Her hair was dry and arranged disorderly. She had a beautiful face. Her lips were dry. She was wearing an almost broken chappal. It looked like she had not had a cup of tea since morning. When she came into the office, she said namaste to Mr. Sabarwal and stood in the corner of the office.
“What happened to your husband?” He asked her.
“He was sick and was an alcoholic. Whenever I tried to stop him, he rebuked even, and One day, he vomited blood and became almost lifeless. I carried him to the hospital, and on the way, he vomited blood thrice and died.” She said.
“May God give peace to his soul. Who else is there in your family?” Mr. Sabarwal asked her.
“No one, sir. My parents died when I was a kid. My Uncle and Auntie looked after me. Later they married me to get rid of their burden. They got me married to a sick older man, double my age. Now he has also left me. There is no one now.” She replied. Her voice was full of pain and emptiness.
Mr. Sabharwal said, “Please go.”
She went away. Mr. Sabarwal told Siding in charge, “Let me talk to the leader.”
We went to the Manager. He informed him about the strike and matters related to the strike. The manager telephoned the leader. He assured him that he was coming.
We went underground for our work. In the evening, we went to the siding. The siding in charge informed that the leader came and went to strike persons. He talked with the woman because of whom others were on strike. Later he told me to inform you that tomorrow by ten o’clock in the morning matter will be settled.
The other day, I went with Mr. Sabharwal to the siding at about ten o’clock. Today that widow was there in a clean dress with good makeup. She was wearing a clean sari. Her hair was well combed. She was wearing a light shade of lipstick. Today, she looked beautiful.
At about ten o’clock leader came. He went to striking workers. They shouted – “Inqilab, Zindabad (Long live the revolution), Bharat Mata Ki Jai (Victory for Mother India).”
After shouting slogans, the workers’ leader gave a speech, “Fellow workers, today, to redress our problem, our beloved leader has come. We are very much indebted to him. Our dear leader stood with us whenever we faced trouble for our cause. We are grateful to him. Today he came to redress our problem. Whatever decision he takes, we will accept it. Please welcome our leader with our clapping first.
The leader was welcomed with clapping then a few workers garlanded him. Then the leader started his speech, “Brothers and Sisters, thank you very much for your respect and love. We are ordinary people. Pain and pleasure are our friends. If we do not work, we will die due to hunger. We work hard for two times meals for our children and ourselves. We work hard for a piece of cloth to cover our bodies. Today, this poor woman lost her breadwinner. If you will not have compassion for her, then who else will? Only the poor understand the poor’s grief. This useless management will take months to give her service. In this situation, who else will help her other than you people? Your concerns are genuine. I promise you. I will try my best to make her understand. I am sure she will understand everything. Please have faith in me and take back your strike.”
Everybody clapped and shouted, “Bharat Mata Ki Jai (Victory for Mother India). Zindabad (used to express approval).”
Thus, the strike was called off. There were mirth and glee all around. The lady who was the reason for this strike sat in the leader’s car. He took her with him.
After seeing his compassion for the poor, I respected him from the core of my heart. If someone other than him had been there, he would have used that woman’s poverty and called her to his place, but he took her with him in his car to convince those workers that he was their only savior. How easily he solved the problem. This world is so beautiful and safe only due to such people. Perhaps this is the reason why the management keeps leaders in good humor.
The other afternoon, when I went to siding, I saw the woman the leader had taken with him working with two other women who complained against her. Today women leaders and this woman were not only working together, but they were talking like friends. I was astonished to see this. I asked Siding in charge, “What kind of miracle is this? Yesterday, the woman talked ill about her, and they are friends today. I thought the leader would engage her for work elsewhere, but this is a miracle.”
“Yes, sir, it is the leader’s miracle. He is famous for these kinds of miracles. Please have a seat. I am getting you a cup of hot tea.” Siding in charge said, laughing.
He called that woman and told her to bring tea from the teashop.
She happily went to bring tea. She looks normal. I came back to the pit office after taking a cup of tea. I told Mr. Sabarwal about this, and he heard it and smiled. Mr. Jain said, “Kid, in due course of time, you will understand everything.”
Mr. Khurana was the ventilation officer of that mine. His way of talking was different. He asked, “Girls are not studying in my school.”
“No,” I said.
“That is why everybody is a bookworm there. That’s why you thought the leader took her with him on compassion for making her understand those women’s concerns.” He said, laughing.
Mr. Jain said, “Forget it. Khurana always talks like this. You will understand everything in due course of time.”
And the matter was over.
