The 25 students were from all seven divisions of Coal India which has its headquarters in Calcutta.
My colleague and I were to deliver the six day course in the Singrauli District on the border of the states of Uttar Pradesh and Madhya Pradesh. Singrauli is about 210 kms from Varanasi which by Australian calculating should take around two hours or so.
It took six hours of bone crunching, back-jarring agony to negotiate the 200 kms of difficult driving. Even though we were in a very rural area where mud and straw huts were common, there were people and traffic in profusion.
Bullock carts and fifty year old trucks interspersed with bicycles and pedestrians. All along the roadside was a wide range of artisans who were there to service this massive array of mobility. There were mechanics, welders, men who would return distorted wheels to circularity (almost). Some sold tyres in various stages of wear from near new to smooth and shiny.
There were many broken down and disabled trucks strewn along the highway. Some were loaded with twice or three times their designated capacity. They carried livestock, straw, cotton bales, rocks, coal; anything you can think of really.
Road Haulage
One huge truck had entered a pothole some time before, never, I imagine, to return to service. The pothole stretched almost across the entire width of the road and was in places four feet deep. I think it was the truck’s last resting place.
After half a day’s drive we reached Singrauli where we were given a cleanish single room each in the mine’s guest house where we would be looked after for the next week by Head Cook and Bottle Washer, Jashwal and his five trusty helpers. They would meet our every need and cook our daily breakfast and dinner.
One of these gentlemen also washed my shirts and other laundry down at the nearby stream. When the clothes were returned at the end of the afternoon they were crisply pressed and folded with pins and card just as they were when new.
That first night we met senior mine management from Duhdichua mine and we were introduced to our 25 students. Each student spoke and told us about himself and why he wanted to be on the course.
The best ten of the whole class would be rewarded with a six week trip to Queensland for more in-depth mine safety training later in the year.
They were an eager group and keen to learn in the well equipped training classroom. I found it difficult to understand the varied accents at first but soon became more familiar with them. No doubt they had the same problem with my Welsh dialect.
The open cast coal mines of Singrauli are owned and managed by Northern Coalfields Limited. Their ten mines produced more than 60 Million tonnes last year. They also have some interesting safety signage.
Safety Sign at Dudichua Mine
The six days soon passed and we were treated to some parting gifts and many kind words of gratitude from each student.
The food at the Guest House was regular north Indian fare, mostly vegetarian, although Jashwal did serve roast chicken once or twice – I wish he hadn’t, the spicy vegetables were much better. It was excellent food but after a while I was crying out for toast and jam!
“Why didn’t you say so, Sahib?” said Jashwal and we had toast and jam with omelette breakfast for the rest of our stay.
The road back to Varanasi was just as trying and just as long as our outward journey. The next step was a Spice Jet flight back to New Delhi and the magnificent Imperial Hotel for a few days marking the assessment papers.
Delhi is split into two parts, Old and New. Old Delhi forms the northern part of the conurbation and there you can find the massive Red Fort which alas was closed for India National Day celebrations when Tilman and I went there.
Old Delhi was the capital of Moslem India between the 12th and 19th centuries. The streets and alleyways of the Chandni Chowk bazaar are narrow and colourful and typify old India.
New Delhi became the new capital of India in 1911 the same year as the coronation of King George V and Queen Mary. In December of that year a Durbar (an ancient Mughal term for celebration or ceremony) was held in Delhi attended by the imperial couple.
New Delhi is exactly that – a new city. It was built in the 1920s and 1930s. The government buildings are grand and sit beside roads that are 50 metres wide in some cases. It is London’s Whitehall or Canberra’s government precinct on a bigger scale.
The road works and metro construction for the 2010 Commonwealth Games exacerbates the perpetual Delhi traffic jam. Sitting one morning in the car waiting to get moving I heard several young voices shouting “Pleased to meet you, sir”. I looked up to see eight schoolboys in a rickshaw heading to school. How they managed to look so clean and well dressed in the midst of all those fumes and muddy streets is a miracle.
School Bus!
Back at the Imperial before dinner Tilman and I ordered gin and tonic. I had been advised to avoid ice in my drinks when in India on account of possibly contaminated water. I asked the waiter (who was dressed like a South Wales Borderer in a red tunic with bright brass buttons) whether the ice was safe to consume.
Offended, he looked at me as if I were something nasty he had trodden in. “This, sir, is the Imperial Hotel!” I had ice and lemon with the gin.
If you would like to read the whole series of articles again, you will find them on http://chrisskeldingtalesofindia.blogspot.com/
Photographs by Chris Skelding and Tilman Rasche.
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