Thanthan
Carrying a 19,000 kg load on your back gives a queasy feeling, especially when you’re traveling along a dicey national highway strewn with not-so-pretty potholes. As I clamber onto the truck that is to ferry me from Dimapur to Imphal, the proverbial flies on the wall – Ash, Kareena and Preity – signal a welcome glance, plastic smiles included.
My captain purrs the engine to life; the first mate takes his position. And we’re off! Twenty minutes of blaring ‘filmi’ songs later, we approach the Chummu check gates. First mate, or ‘handyman’, scrambles to where the “friendly” men in khaki are positioned and shells out the ‘greens.’ For the three check gates, a princely sum of Rs 500. No receipt or ‘challan’ is sealed against the payments.
My newfound chums complain they have to pay “much too much.” But anyway, their bosses, also, will end up with a profit at the end of the day leaving only the consumers’ pockets with holes. My captain informs that while the minimum a check gate in Nagaland will ask for is five score rupees, the ‘collectors’ on the Manipur side are content with 10-20 rupees. Well, onwards with the trucker’s diary. Traveling on, we park the carrier at the ‘Pherima line hotel’ where dinner is laid. Camaraderie wafts the air as fellow truckers catch up on the latest. After dinner the next stop is at Khuzama where the police folk there prevent us from venturing forward because it’s late. We call it a day and tuck ourselves in the comfort of blankets. Outside, the temperature drops as the night progresses.
It’s 5 in the morning when a policeman delivers his rendition of ‘Up and at ‘em!’ in Nagamese: “Entry kori lobhi de.”
The bumps begin to really sink in after you’ve reached Mao Gate. The roads are in much more deplorable conditions as compared to their counterparts in Nagaland. At Senapati, we suffer a puncture, delaying the journey for a half hour. In the course of changing the tyres, a gentleman from the excise department walks over to see if he can make a quick rupee or two. Nothing doing. My captain is a veteran in the art of such negotiation. As we trudge on, holding parleys with the terrain, the occasional check gate pops up. At times, first mate expertly gets off the slowing-down vehicle, passes the bucks and hops aboard while the truck is still in motion. Not for a single time was the vehicle frisked during the entire journey. All things said and done, every journey has a destination. The road trip terminates at half past one in the afternoon, as we saunter into the valley known as Imphal. I bid adieu to my companions with the promise that we will take on the road and all its check posts again. Until then, Tata!
