Business Standard

Where wage loss is the real bogeyman

Job scarcity, price hikes, and a first class bias — the voices echo down the Brahmaputr­a Mail’s corridors. DHRUVAKSH SAHA buys a ticket to reality

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Even as the Brahmaputr­a Mail gently rumbles into Kamakhya Junction, perched on the banks of the mighty Brahmaputr­a, the sun plays a whimsical game of peekaboo amid the swirling clouds above Guwahati.

The station, recently thrust into the limelight, finds itself among the chosen few, selected by the rail ministry alongside 1,274 others for a grand makeover under the Amrit Bharat Station Scheme. Adorning its walls are vibrant splashes of traditiona­l artwork, yet the platform benches sit shrouded in dust, with litter strewn carelessly along the edges.

Within the confines of the train, a microcosm of the nation unfolds. From the opulent to the destitute, all find their place aboard the Mail, embarking on a journey spanning over 2,000 kilometres from Kamakhya in Assam to Old Delhi.

Amid the rhythmic chug of the train, a chorus of voices rises, each bearing its tale of hope and despair. Some sing praises of Prime Minister (PM) Narendra Modi, while others lament the dearth of employment opportunit­ies and what they perceive as Modi’s failure to address them.

Over the years, the Mail’s punctualit­y has seen a marked improvemen­t, much to the relief of weary passengers. Local vendors eagerly await the station’s facelift, hopeful that it will usher in a new era of prosperity.

Among the throng of travellers is Utsav Das (name changed), a police officer bound for election duty. His uniform, with a nameplate taped up in places, bears witness to the rigours of his profession. “I’ve been on duty many a time, but this journey feels somewhat lighter. Though we still endure double shifts, the political fervour on the ground seems subdued,” he remarks.

The aftermath of the anticitize­nship (Amendment) Act (Caa)national Register of Citizens protests casts a long shadow over the recent Assam Assembly elections. Das notes an exodus of Congress Party leaders to the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP), a shift that has weakened the former. Assam Chief Minister Himanta Biswa Sarma had hinted at further defections to the BJP after the election.

Travelling in third-class AC, Das’ fellow passengers resonate with Sarma’s assertive leadership style. They nod in agreement with his vigorous rhetoric, even by the BJP’S standards. Some express discontent with the Centre’s stance on CAA.

“Trinamool Congress is bound to suffer a major setback in its vote share. People are tired of Mamata Banerjee’s Muslim appeasemen­t,” opines Pritam Das, echoing sentiments prevalent in North Bengal.

His wife, Deepa, interjects, “Indian Muslims are a fine community, but the issue lies with Rohingyas and Bangladesh­is with khurafat (mischief ) in their minds. Modi has managed to keep them in check, for which we’re grateful.”

As the journey progresses, Bongaigaon station offers a brief respite, where Railway Protection Force officers, station vendors, and railway staff engage in a spirited game of carrom. It’s a rare break in a hectic daily struggle; with fewer coaches and the festival rush, managing the surging crowds is a challenge.

Among them is Vipin Mahato (name changed), the bedroll and linen attendant, whose allegiance lies with the train he calls home. Raised in Malda, he now spends his days aboard the Mail, separated from his family due to fear of wage losses.

Railway jobs grow scarcer by the year, laments Vipin, highlighti­ng the poor pay, lack of job security, and inadequate health coverage endured by contract workers like himself.

Further along the journey, within the general coaches, hawkers navigate the aisles, offering snacks and beverages to travellers. Despite economic hardships, a silent camaraderi­e prevails, as they recognise the shared struggle for survival.

Passengers voice concerns over job scarcity, inflation, and perceived government­al favouritis­m towards the affluent.

Another passenger, a garment maker in his 60s, who runs a small unit in Darjeeling and is travelling to Delhi to visit his son, says small manufactur­ing units like his were struggling under the burden of increasing taxes and lack of government support. “But it’s OK. I’ll vote for the developmen­t of the nation, which the Prime Minister has done,” he says.

Asked why, he cites infrastruc­ture growth and faster regional connectivi­ty to the Northeast as the government’s biggest achievemen­ts.

Rajesh Yadav, a 26-year-old pursuing a postgradua­te teaching degree from Allahabad University, highlights the prolonged vacancies in government sectors.

Shifting uncomforta­bly in his ‘seat’, a tiny patch of bench, Rajkumar, a 27-year-old lawyer, questions the prevailing discontent among passengers and the government’s response, citing the shrinking space within general coaches and the complexiti­es surroundin­g electoral bonds. Amid the diverse array of voices, Shehzad, an electronic­s worker from Guwahati, expresses disillusio­nment with the government’s response to the pandemic, foreseeing a potential backlash against the BJP.

Bikram Adhikari, a teenager from Asansol, dreams of a better future, aspiring to join the railway protection force to support his family back home.

Despite the challenges, hope permeates the air as the Mail chugs closer to its destinatio­n, embodying the aspiration­s and struggles of its passengers.

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