Acceptance Speech @ Book Release

SPEECH @ Mahindra Logistics Annual Day Conference/19 July 2012

Namaskar.

Good evening Ladies & Gentlemen.

Way back in 1972 April, I was in school final.

Just completed my examinations and had to wait for results before deciding what to do next.

My maternal grandfather, one day, said: come with me.

He took me to his office.

Eagle Transport Corporation on Armenian Street in Chennai.

I became a summer intern for Rs.50. Just for a month.

That was my first exposure to the so-called logistics.

I used to envy drivers. Because they had travelled across India and used to speak several languages.

It was a wow factor for me.

Almost 35 years later, in 2005 I landed up in Muscat to revamp a business publication. That is where I saw the maturity of logistics and supply chain.

Big companies were there. Vehicles were massive. Used to mingle with drivers - tall Pakistani and buxom Indian drivers on Fridays at roadside coffee shops; and eager to ferret out info about their life.

When I returned to India end 2009 due to a fatal accident to my daughter on Delhi-Gurgaon road - hit by a trailer tractor, my wife said, 'enough of gulf. return home.'

Daughter safe and the itch to go back was very much there. But, you know the spouse pressure!

That's when one day, I got a call from a young female voice: would you mind writing something on logistics?

It was Smati Suri of Cargo Connect. We never met until then.

I began to write for her. Thanks, Smati!

Soon after I ran into another young colleague of mine - - he was editing Cargo Times.

And he was wanting to do something different, but in logistics segment.

I said, I am ready provided it is beyond air cargo. 

Early 2010, we launched Logistics Times.

We agreed that Logistics Times will not be a cut and paste stuff. Not a garland of events happening in transport and cargo focused companies.

Because we genuinely felt logistics and transport industry deserves better media attention.

No business publication was touching them for a cover story kind of treatment though they deserved such coverage all the time.

We imposed some conditions on ourselves.

we won't put pen to paper or key in a single word, unless we visit and interact with people.

And we said, no cover story will be based on one single interview with Chairman or CEO.

We will meet all vertical heads and then the story.

Luckily for us, the industry understood our seriousness.

When LT reached the desks of logistics companies, they saw the difference and liked it.

 That is when I begin to focus on Transport.

 Began to spend time with genuine transporters with sizeable fleet.

 Added to that was my association with Automotive Logistics of London for whom I was stringing from India.

Louis Yiakoumi - whom you all know personally - and myslef hit it off very well right from day one.

In the course of writing my maiden story on Indian car carrier industry for him, I met Vipul Nanda of Mercurio Pallia Logistics.

We became thick friends and well wishers of each other's profession.

I used to ask friends in KPMG, Frost and Sullivan, Accenture who used to come out with thick tomes on logistics etc whether they have travelled in a truck for long distances. Their response was no. Then I asked friends in transport industry. Their response was again no.

Yes they did travel for short distances. But in an air-conditioned car behind their fleet!

Bingo! That was the time, I had completed the Blue Ocean Strategy, a well known book about new business opportunities.

I said to myself, nobody has travelled in a truck for long distance - say from Gurgaon to Chennai or in the reverse direction.

Why not I bloody hell do it?

I mailed Louis about my intention.

He jumped at it and said go ahead and Christopher Ludwig, Editor, called up to say, write a diary on the proposed trip for me!

I was pretty happy.

Not my family. My 80 plus mother in law asked: "are you crazy?"

My 60 plus brother in law, somewhere sitting in the audience now, chastised his sister: "what does your husband think of himself: 15 year old kid? He is 55 and diabetic."

My wife knew my temperament and kept quiet.

Daughter jumped in glee and said, 'cool idea. do it".

I travelled from Chennai to Gurgaon with 8 Hyundai i10s on a Mercurio Pallia over 7-8 days on my maiden trip.

First night was tough.

That's when I watched the lifestyle of drivers. How they were pilloried. Harassed. How they were not trusted by maliks.

Then went stayed with two drivers' families to understand their family surroundings.

In fact, I attended a child marriage in Rajasthan.

And a sahai in Sultanpur.

Both events belonging to drivers.

When I had completed 10,000 km through multiple trips, wrote the book over 3 weeks in my inlaws place in Chennai.

Then came the critical question: how to get it published.

It is then Vipul sprung a surprise. He said that his company - Pallia transport company - has completed 50 years and he plans to celebrate in a big way.

Would you mind if i back your book?

 I literally hugged him.

I don't want to talk about the book because i want each one of you to read.

I can humbly submit that no one will give such a ringside view of your industry.

Thanks to encouragement from the industry, i did not stop.

As of today, i had completed another 7,000 km before summer halted me - temporarily. More trips are in the pipeline.

I have become fascinated with Indian highways, transport and drivers.

When the first edition was launched November last year, the response was huge and tremendous.

Today, I can boast of a fan club across the globe.

Vipul, Fiat's Kalpesh Pathak, Louis have become my unofficial ambassadors by talking about my book across globe.

I began to get mails and calls from many places asking for copy.

Some friends from IIMs called up to say, 10,000 KM on Indian Highways is included in the "Must Read" list!

That's when the idea of second edition cropped up

I must confess that the only contact i made soon after this idea came was to knock on Mr Piroz Sarkari's office.

Within 30 minutes after my mail was sent, my inbox flashed, "let us do it" from Nasserwanji Huafeed, on behalf of Mr Sarkari.

Significantly, Mr Sarkari was present at the November launch and actually I stood next to him on stage when the photo opportunity came up.

A million thanks to you, Mr Sarkari and Mahindra Logistics for this special gesture! And Hua, to you also for facilitating this dream come true!

I am onto my next book: with lot more fresh insight and input.

Am sure, God will send someone to back that book also.

A special thanks to all transporters who are gathered here and who are not here also who encouraged me all along and they continue to do that even now.

And to my family and friends. One of them said, "Discovery of India - Ramesh Way"! Another nicknamed me: Highway Humrahi!

Now ....

I must tell you this. Whenever my wife plans a trip, she asks: plane ticket? train ticket? or your free truck trip? Actually, 17000 km of free Bharat darshan so far!

I had just landed up this morning from Petropole, the Indo-Bangladesh border town - spending time with drivers from all across India waiting to help Indian companies to sell their products to our neighbour over 10 days.

I saw Mahindra and Mahindra gensets crossing the border. I saw Leyland AC buses waiting on the Indian side. Caterpillar road making machineries in the CWC parking lot. Also spent time with hundreds of drivers living pathetic life there.

It is nothing new to me.

Ladies and Gentlemen, while our soldiers guard our borders from external aggression, these drivers are quietly doing a very big favour to each one of us.

Tatas, Birlas, Ambanis, Mahindras and a whole lot of them sink in huge dollops of money in building a massive industrial empire to build a robust India.

For which, they need drivers to push raw materials from wherever to the assembly lines and when final products are ready, again drivers are needed to push the same to the nooks and corners of this vast nation called India. We must give them due recognition.

...

Just two days ago, I got a call from a driver friend from Pune.

Mr Nalin Mehta (CEO, Mahindra Navistar) will be happy to hear this.

"Sirji, hamara company 10 Mahindra Navistar karid liya. Training bhi ho gaya."

I asked him: "Kaisa lag raha hai, Pandeyji!" Like a typical Indian TV Reporter!

Because his favourite until now was Mann trucks.

By the way, who is Pandeyji? you are curious to know, I am sure.

Read the book. He is one of the main lively characters in my book!

"Sirji, you come for a trip with me in Navistar. Jamshedpur to Ludhiana with Tata Steel load. See for yourself."

I had done the same route with him in February 2011.

Am itching, Mr Mehta for the Mahindra Navistar experience!

Ladies and Gentlemen,

It is often said, travel expands mindspace.

I don't know about that.

But I must tell you ...

That these 'trips and travels' got me a whole lot of new friends: drivers to cleaners to RTOs to Inspector Generals of Police to ... ufff... what not!

My daughter makes fun of me, saying: "papa, your mobile has more driver category numbers than anybody else!"

Thanks you all once again for this lovely opportunity.

Jai Hind!

Kolkota Diary-9

Residents of Heaven were kind enough to keep the temperature low enough ever since i stepped out of Delhi 10 days ago.

Kolkota, where we are camped now, is no different. it has been raining and cloudy most of the day.
this makes moving around much easier and comfortable. You don't sweat in Kolkota's yellow taxis.
Must tell you, these taxis are the backbone of Kolkota. Get a feeling that hindustan motors survives thanks to Kolkota cab scenario.

After govt of India has more or less moved its sole dependence on Ambassadors over the past several years, sales of Ambassador have plummeted, but not in West Bengal.

no other auto OEM is allowed perhaps to sell their wares for public taxi purpose.

Maybe Hindustan Motors is a Kolkota=based company with a workforce to support. Nothing wrong.
Maharashtra govt used to support Premier Automobiles - makers of Fiat and company based out of the state - as cabs.

Today, the scene has immensed. You find all kinds of cabs in Mumbai beyond Fiats.

***

Our day began with a visit to Kolkota Customs as we had been asked to return and give a feedback on Petropole, on the Indo-Bangladesh border through which 60 per cent of trade takes place.
Moreover, we have to get fresh approval to other other Land Customs Stations in West Bengal before proceeding.

Had a long discussion with Commissioner Gurmeet Singh.

Later, we were asked to meet Shailendra Sharma, Additional Commissioner, who had long exposure to LCS in Bengal.

He met us with two of his officers: Assistant Commissioners M K Sharma and P K Sircar in his utilitarian, colour-coordinated, spacious cabin on the third floor of Kolkota Customs House in Babughat.

He heard us out and gave his assessment of the LCS in West Bengal.

Contacts at various LCS were provided and alerted as well about our impending visit. Trade data through various LCS in Bengal into Bangalesh were sought by us and the process is underway.

***

Around Esplanade, if you are looking for a decent airconditioned restaurant to sit and eat, you will be disappointed.

For the second time over the past 10 days, we had to go around in circles trying to locate one.  But the plethora of roadside foodstalls, frequented by office goers is amazing. They do roaring business, no doubt.

Alam, my colleague, commented that the Left front government perhaps decided not to  permit growth of such sit-and-eat restaurants and instead encouraged the mushrooming growth of roadside stand-and-eat foodstalls! Don't know, how far that is true. But not a bad hypothesis!

We had no other option but to return to Limelight, opposite Telephone Bhavan, where we ate last time. The staff were familiar with us. Excellent food arrived well in time. Of course, the quantity was huge, forcing us to leave our plates half untouched.

***

Cruising through Kolkota is a nightmare. Next port of halt for us was Engineering Export Promotion Council in Woods Street, closer to Park Street. Passing through this famous road (why it is called street?), brought back memories of Harold Robbins 79 Park Avenue, one of his magum opuses, that I had devoured in the mid 1970s.

Bhaskar Sircar, Executive Director, EEPC, was more than happy to hear and share our  views on Indo-Bangladesh trade facilitation study which we were conducting. Over cups of tea, we had long discussion.

When we stepped out, it was almost half past four and decided to return for rest and recovery before starting our interactions the next day.

Another yellow Ambassador cab and another dare devilry ride on Kolkota roads. Traffic planning leaves much to be desired.

***

Previous night halt near Howrah station was not much to our comfort and decided to move out to the neighbouring facility. Our choice of The Ashoka Hotel was good. Decent tariff, decent room service, polite staff and lot of quietitude once you are  inside its premises. Fit for business travellers with limited budget. Connectivity is superb. Will highly recommend for new visitors to Kolkota.

Kolkota Diary-8

The last day at Petropole turned out to be as jampacked as the previous few days we had spent on this Indo-Bangladesh border town. Thanks to the labour dispute between contractors and unloading/loading labour on the Bangladesh side, there was no export/import between these two SAARC neighbours.

Naturally, Petropole remained a ghost town for the third consecutive day. One last trip, said colleague Alam. Now we had managed to bargain and avail Bongaon-Petropole autoride at Rs.70 instead of Rs.100 on day one! Almost all autodrivers at both ends knew our presence in their midst. Our popularity among Customs and driving community also ensured that we got a fair deal.

Post breakfast, we stepped out for our meetings with Customs House Agents (CHAs), the vital link in any foreign trade. Manufacturer or merchandise exporter/importer may do all that is necessary. Transporters and fleet owners may deploy trucks to haul the stuff to the border town.

But to get the paper work done at the Customs is the sole responsibility of CHAs. Without them, your sale/purchase is as good as non-existent. Loaded with tonnes of paper, gotten from their headquarters in Kolkota, these worker bees move mountains of papers at the Customs to ensure goods actually move out of Indian territory into Bangladesh or vice versa.

There are hundreds of CHAs, operating out of 5 x 8 dungeon offices, bang opposite Customs office at Petropole. They know as much as Customs officials know about various sub sections and legal provisions of foreign trade.

With Mumbai-based Alistair of Bianca Logistics who handles Mahindra & Mahindra's generators export to Bangladesh - who incidentally was introduced to us my Chairman of Gurgaon-based South Eastern Carriers Yash Pal Jain (a well wisher and a source of knowledge to me on transportation and logistics) - we zeroed in on Dilip Bachaar (see pix above) of JK Overseas in Petropole. Gautam Pandya, another CHA from Kolkota also referred us to DB.

Having spoken to him over the past two days, we landed up at his tiny office. He willingly made us go through the paper formalities that enable export patiently while Alam took volumnious notes. Fifteen years of hard labour has made him a good source of information.

He guides us to Gopal Ghosh (see pix above) of TCI Freight next door, another veteran. Next in line was our telecon with Samar Das of J L Goward & Co, another CHA, who was in Kolkota since the border is closed for trade. He handles M&M tractors movement between these two countries.

One last trip, we made to Deputy Commissioner U C Das's office where he greeted us in his T-shirt. He was in a very relaxed mood and cheerful. Not because there was less work, but due to the fact that he got trasnsferred to Kolkota, his hometown and he would be packing his bag and baggage within a week's time!

One final government of India free lunch for us before we shook hands with as many Superintendents of Customs as we could meet and stepped out.

Our next halt was the Integrated Check Post (ICP) just behind the sprawling CWC Parking Lot and just across the Indo-Bangladesh railway track manned by Border Security Force.

SVEC Project Head Raman Bhowmick and RITES officer Suraj Srivastava  (see pix above) spent 30 minutes explaining what was going on at the site. Approach road to the proposed ICP may be an issue that needs sorting out. We saw the complete model of ICP. Also witnessed ground levelling, filling up of a water area ('not a pond!') and other activities. Earlier, Deputy Commissioner had indicated a team is coming to visit the ICP over the next two days.

We got out and reached our Bongaon guest house around half past three, checked out and boarded our taxi for Kolkota.

By eight, we were safely resting at a lodge, hardly a stone's throw away from the famous Howrah Bridge.

Over the next few days, our engagement will be confined to Kolkota: customs, Dunkuni transport park, exporters, transporters etc.

Kolkota Diary-7

When the call came asking, "would you mind meeting the North Parganas 24 (North) MLA?" from Trinamool Congress local President Dilip Das - whom I know as Secretary of Bongaon Lorry Owners Association, I said 'yes'.

Biswajeet Das (See pix above: right) must be in is mid-30s. He was tall and bespectacled and seated in the party office adjacent to Bongaon Municipal Office near NH 35. More than a dozen partymen were tightly squeezed into the narrow space when I walked in, escorted by the 70 plus Dilip Das.

I was alerted well in advance that the MLA is not comfortable speaking Hindi or English, but fluent in Bengali, his mother tongue.

"Don't worry. Am there," assured the multi-linguist Dilip Das.

There was another fat gentleman sitting next to him, who was introduced as Gopal Seth (see pix above: left), ex-MLA from the same constituency and presently member of the Regional Transport Authority. Luckily, he was like Dilip Das, multilinguist.

Am afraid of linguistic challenges because the true essence of what is spelt out gets lost when translated. Even the choice of words convey a lot when the spoken language is common between the speaker and listener.

I seldom faced linguistic challenge on the Indian soil. By and large, Hindi played the bridge language - not English.

Both Seth and the MLA - an usual sight of two young and ambitious politicians who have a stake in the constituency sitting and working together - regaled me with what their Trinamool Congress under one year old Mamta Banerjee government has done for Bongaon and what it plans to do to promote trade between India and Bangladesh. Specific queries were answered promptly by Seth and at times by the MLA with Dilip Das translating the same into Bengali and retranslating the same into Hindi/English for my convenience.

Political talk is nothing new. Each politician would try to show his party performance in glowing colours. Opposition would invariably try to belittle what is achieved by ruling establishment. You have to tread cautiously and weed out propaganda from performance by assessing the ground reality.

My request to visit Bongaon Municipal Parking, the first halting point for outstation vehicles coming into Bongaon, was acceded to. A 3-wheeler was commissioned to take me to the Parking lot (see below).

It was getting hot. The vehicle navigated through narrow gullies and speedbreaker-cum-pothole filled roads to reach the Parking lot, capable of holding 1000 vehicles at any point of time and plans are underway to expand the same to take additional 1000 vehicles. Laudable.

I could spot 150 vehilces with various items from various parts of India parked. It was tough spotting drivers in the campus. One was busy lashing the tarpaulin while another was taking bath at the huge rectangular tank at the back of Parking facility.

The administrative block was in pathetic state. Several rooms meant as rest room for drivers was in dilated state and filled up with rubbish and uncleaned for how long, I don't know. Most of the rooms of ground plus two floors was out of use for how long I don't know.

Why not given to drivers for resting? I could not resist asking.

"Union problems," crisply answered my driver companion and an INTUC volunteer.

However there was just one single office room with a young adminstrative clerk issuing parking tickets to incoming lorries from his desktop and printer (see below).

A small crowd of people collected, from where they come, I have no idea.

I climbed up the floors to go to the terrace: dirty, uncleared and several seasons of dried fungus several inches thick greeted. There was no railing as I climbed the stairs.

Clicked a few photographs and then noticed a few drivers sleeping under a tree near the exit gate.

A yellow board displayed Police Chowki near the entrance, but no police was present.

"They do come," chipped in my INTUC friend.

Walking around the administrative block, noticed a foursome group of drivers and assistants under a truck having their lunch (see pix below).

Approaching them, I 'helloed' and enquired. They have come from Uttar Pradesh, carrying glass sheets for Bangladesh. They were stranded at the Parking lot for five days due to border closure on account of labour strife on Bangladesh side.

"Why can't these people be allowed to eat in the unused administrative block?" I asked.

There was no response.

Were they asked to pay anything extra?

"No" said one them.

Of course, a Rs.10 bakshish is demanded when exiting, quipped another.

Noticed another driver was taking bath near his truck from the large paint container.

Why not bathing at the bathing ghat at the back of the parking facility?

"You have any problem if I bath here?" he shot back.

I did not say anything and moved on.

Told the INTUC volunteer to bring the 3-wheeler to the exit gate and meanwhile I walk across the length of the parking lot and join him.

That is when I bumped into the half a dozen drivers lying on their bellies and watching me curiously while their photos were clicked by me (see pix below).

They have arrived from Hosur, driving Leyland chassis, this morning and no clue as to how long they may have to wait to cross over.

All of them from Jharkhand and they were waiting for one of their colleagues to complete his bath before planning their lunch.

I looked at the wrist watch which read: 2.35 p.m.

I also begun to feel hungry.

Trooped out and got into the vehicle.

When the INTUC volunteer offered lunch, I politely declined.

Got outside the Bongaon Municipal Office, thanked him and began to walk back to the guest house.

It was hot and most of the shops were shut for lunch.

Perhaps they may open after 5 in the evening.

Who is going to come for shopping in this heat and dust?

Near the Bongaon police station, I stopped to buy a Walls cone ice cream.

Biting into it, I looked around.

Two sugarcane juice vendors were parked on both sides of the bridge and crushing tender sugarcane to serve a few customers. Under the bridge, on the vast expanse of dirty, but shimmering water, long boats were bobbing, unmanned. A kite was hoveirng in the horizon, looking for its prey.

Thought of eating in any of the eatery. Everything was shut, excepting one or two tea stalls.

I walked into the guest house and ordered the same 'rice-dal-salad' routine.

And began to wait for food to be delivered in my room and also for Alam who had gone to Petropole for the survey.

How many more days in this place? I began to wonder.

Kolkota Diary-6

Petropole, suddenly, began to look like a ghost town.

Reason: all import and export activities between India and Bangladesh has come to a grinding halt.

With no movement of vehicle from both sides till the issue is sorted out at the Bangladesh end, the ghost town impression will continue.

I had an inclination of what to do expect on Monday at Petropole even before reaching the Indo-Bangladesh border town at the teastall next to the guest house where I stay.

When you wake up at 5 at the crack of dawn and the guesthouse can't provide a hot cuppa at that hour, I have no other option but to step out for this hot beverage.

That is where I ran to Gopal Chakraborty's tea stall (see picture above). He speaks and understands Hindi. He has to because most of the drivers who frequent his teastall from the nearby private parking lot where outstation hauliers (lorries) terminate and go in for a truck to truck transfer enabling local transporters to handle the 'last mile' connectivity between bongaon and petropole and then onto bonapole on the Bangladesh side. All this last mile activity will comprise of just 10 km. Why this arrangement? Well, examine this in a later dispatch!

"Chai with milk?" Yes.

"With cheeni (sugar)?" No.

"Anything to munch?" Yes, but what?

"Some local biscuits or banana. Very good both." Biscuits yes, banana, no.

He pulled out a pump stove from somewhere behind him in his teashop, pumped kerosene into the fire nozzle, pinned the hole for easy flow, then allowed it for a few seconds before crashing a match stick against the rough side of match box.

Soon, the pump stove was in a blaze. While it was settling down with the right blue flame, he moved to the chulna (kitchen hearth) where he cooks food perhaps which was emitting white smoke to put a kettle with water for boiling.

He kept me engaged while washing a glass with hot water by asking a volley of questions.

Before I had my first sip of less-sugar tea and biting into the soft biscuit, tall Tapan Kundu (see below) walked in. He had a few days' stubble and sat next to me, ordering his cuppa.

"He has come from Bonapole," said Gopal to me by way of introduction.

I 'hello'ed Tapan.

"Due to some labour problem on the Bangladesh side, Tapan cannot get his empty vehicle out of Bonapole. Moroever, by the time he unloaded his Indian exports on the other side, it was past 6 pm and the gates are closed till next morning 10 a.m," explained Gopal.

I know of the labour strife on Bangladesh because Kartik Chakraborty had hinted at some dispute over loading/unloading charges between labour and contractors at Bonapole. Labour is paid approx. Rs.25 per tonne as against Rs.67 on Indian side. This issue has been simmering for sometime on Bangladesh side, but worsened on Monday with them stopping work.

No loading/unloading, no exports/imports from or into Bangladesh.

But how come, Tapan has left his vehicle on Bangladesh side and returned to Indian side?

"Bloody, you cannot get anything to eat decently on that side," flared up Tapan.

Since he is a Bongon resident (hardly 8-9 km from the border), he parked his empty vehicle on the Bangla side, requested other outstation drivers to monitor his vehicle, crossed the Indian border, gone home, ate and slept overnight.

Here he is for his morning cuppa before rushing to the border with the hope the labour dispute would be resolved and he would be able to drive his stranded vehicle out of Bangla into India.

Tapan is not the only driver to crib about food issues. Roop Sharma of TCI Freight, ferrying BOC Gas from Jamshedpur to Bangladesh, crisply remarks: "I carry three kilos of puffed rice (kurmura), channa (Bengal gram), some fruits and 5 litres of water to survive till my return to India." He is a vegetarian and he is confident he will get nothing to satiate his vegetarian hunger. What is available on that side is only meat, beef, chicken, mutton.

Gates opened or shut, it does not matter for us. We scooter down to Petropole. There is no usual crowd on roads and the Customs office is also deserted. Where are the milling CHA agents? Where are the inspectors assigned to examine, appraise and inspect vehicles bound for and into India? Even the first floor hall is bereft of any human beings! Are we in an alien land?

"Ah, come, come!," greets A K Maity, Senior Superintendent (Admin). He is also relaxed. No exports, no imports. So no work, he points out.

"Huge loss of foreign exchange," says he, while leading us to his cubicle. For the first time over the past three days, we notice that he has a cubicle and a seat to sit, desktop on his table. Otherwise, we have mostly seen him in Deputy Commissioner U C Das's cabin - standing and sitting next to him with a clutch of papers.

According to him, Bangaldesh loading/unloading workers have struck work demanding higher wages. They are paid approx Rs.25 (Bangladesh Taka) per tonne as against Rs.67 in India! It was a long running dispute and now struck work. Till it is sorted out, Indian vehicles already in Bangladesh border cannot unload and therefore cannot return. Similarly, no Bangladesh vehicle with stuff for India is permitted to cross into Indian territory.

How long this stalemate will continue, nobody has a clue. Till then, it is leisure for everyone.

Meanwhile, Maity explains the complete export documentation process patiently - both the manual pre-EDI days and the current EDI regime procedure. Four Superintendents and a dozen inspectors clear approx. 300 vehicles daily between 10 a.m. and 6 p.m. for exports and approx. 150 vehicles for import into India.

With a CHA agent in tow, we step into CWC Parking lot for some pen-and-paper survey. A huge crowd collects around Alam out of curiosity and debate whether to participate or not. Some decide to help. Others remain such as bystanders. They are not keen. What will come out of this survey? is asked.

CWC Parking lot is full of activity. Several groups are playing cards (see pix above); some sleeping. hundreds of cycles, belonging to locals, parked. While Alam is busy filling forms, I sit with some drivers whom I have befriended over the past two days and begin to hear their harrowing tales. Universal complaint is that nobody cares for them. No drinking water on both sides. No sheds for them stay. We notice a huge hall earmarked "Drivers Room" but kept under lock and key and when I peep in, it is filled with wired mesh and lot of unwanted items. No driver is allowed inside. Kitchen sheds are converted into cycle stands. Fencing is broken on compound walls at several places.

Drivers shout and scream and curse CWC for neglecting them.

Post lunch, we return for second round of pen-and-paper survey. Again, a motley collects and assist Alam to fill up a few forms.

From nowhere a CITU representative emerges in a bicycle and holds forth on how the present government is doing nothing.

I ask him: your left front government was in power for 35 years and what it has done for these drivers? The fat, trade union leader unfurls the CPM flag and asks his cohorts to hold it in the background and he goes on and on (see above). We wriggle out by promising to meet him at his office next evening. Uff!

There is total neglect and indifference of drivers by CWC. There can be no two opinions on this score. Why? No one is ready to answer. Will have to take it up with CWC once back in Delhi.

To be born and or become a driver in India is a curse, I begin to feel.

Except the Shillong-born Christian Daniel, adopted by the UP Hindu driver Tewariji as his son, nobody wants to leave 'drivery'. Daniel prays that he gets a peon's job in some government office.

Two young Bengali drivers quietly say: "Six months before deciding to marry, we will give up driving."

Why, boys?

"Tell me, which girl will marry a driver?" am pointedly asked.

Yes, which girl will marry drivers? None.

These remarks keep reverberating as our 3-wheeler returns us to our airconditioned guest house for the night and till we step out the next morning.

Maybe I will visit Gopal's teastall tomorrow also. Who knows, he has something new to tell. Or I may bump into some new acquaintance.

Everything is in the realm of possibility.

Kolkota Diary-5

Sunday it was.

In Bongaon/Petropole, sun is out very early.

Crack of dawn is around five a.m.

Construction workers at the site behind my guest house are already at work.

Sun plays a bit hide and seek.

Working on Sunday? In India?

Is Sunday not a holiday in India?

"Not in Petropole," reminds the guest house desk hand.

Why?

"Because Bangladesh works on Sundays and it is closed on Fridays," I am told.

Oh! It takes me back to my Gulf days where we used to observe Fridays as weekly offdays and work on Sundays!

"For me, seven days' work," quips Deputy Commissioner of Customs Uttara Chand Das (see pix below. Extreme left), with two more years service left, in his chambers at Petropole, hardly 50 metres away from the Zero Land - linking India with Bangladesh.

How come?

"Look, my family lives in Kolkota (100 km away) and I live in Petropole in government guest house. Fridays when our offices here is closed, I have to rush to Kolkota for meeting with my seniors there. They don't work on Saturdays and Sundays. I leave for Kolkota on Thursday night, stay at my home, meet officials on Friday and return Saturday morning back to Petropole. So it is a 7-days week!", explains the portly, tall official who has served in the entire north east.

Das' take on life is interesting. Actually, this kind of lifestyle is not taxing, claims he.

How? "When you love your work and passionate, you don't notice the passage of time," says he.

Sitting in the huge hall where customs house agents are eagerly awaiting his signature on documents, already vetted, inspected and assessed by inspectors and superintendents, I look outside the giant window. Over 500 plus trucks - carrying Hero motorcycles, steel rods, girders, Caterpillar machines and what not - are standing in a long queue to exit out of the 17-acre CWC parking lot.

Das, who is holding additional charge of exports in the absence of the previous officer having shifted out, is spending more time in Exports building since, "exports are more important and the volume is also more compared to imports" as he points out.

The chirpy and most powerful - I wish to call him human dynamo - Kartik Chakraborty, Secretary of CHA union - (see at the start of this dispatch) ambles into Das's cabin. For a change, his eyewear is most noticeable thanks to the red frame. I pull his legs saying, "By mistake you have come into this field. You should be in Kollywood or Bollywood".

Catch hold of Kartik and your worries will vanish is what one hears everywhere. I heard his name in Delhi and then in Kolkota Customs and of course in Bongaon. The early 30s Bengali does not walk. He is always on a trot. Like his walk, his talk is also on a 'fast track'. Beautifully switching between Bengali, English and Hindi, he directs all and sundry. Even Das and his officers listen and respect him.

Out in the CWC Parking lot, he tells you so much about happenings you wish you can record every single word of his for a possible book on the Indo-Bangladesh trade through Petropole. At the export entry gate, he halts and gets us engaged with security officials. Then he quietly slips in a private security agent - Jeeban Kar - and when he begins to tell his tale, Kartik babu moves a few steps behind me to wink at him signalling 'not to tell more'. I catch him redhanded and he is embarassed.

"No, no. Jeeban, tell eveyrthing," he goads now. Very down to earth guy.

If anyone tells they have not heard of Kartik, don't beleive them. They are bluffing. He is so popular.

Past lunch, he ushers in three Bangladesh clearing and forwarding agents (see above) into the Das' office conference room for a frank talk with us. Indian side also present. Das along with his colleagues is also present. Sohrab Hussain, the only Bangladeshi with fluent Hindi, tells his side of tale, ably assisted by his seniors in Bengali.

By the time, the 90 minute meeting gets over, we have pinned issues that need quick redressal.

We step out of all meetings and find the Sunday sun has ready to bid goodbye.

A terrific Sunday it turned out to be.

Gentleman RTOs?

Sounds a bit like 'oxymoron', no doubt.

How can the attribute of gentlemanliness and RTO can go together?

In the good old days, they used to say that the specie called "gentleman communist" was non-existent. How can a gentleman be a communist or vice versa?  Similiarly, gentlemanliness or gentlewomanliness and RTO tribe can't coexist! Therefore it is an 'oxymoron'.

I had these thoughts buzzing through my mind  a few weeks ago, as I was traversing through southern Tamilnadu.

Actually I was visiting Ashok Leyland's Driver Training Institute (DTI) at Namakkal and in the course of chat with Surendran, Senior Manager in-charge of this faciilty, he dropped the name of Rajnikant. No, not the matinee idol who is deified in the entire Tamil nadu and boasts of a huge fan failling even in the Land of Rising Sun (Japan)!

I was told Rajnikant is a straightforward RTO manning from Namakkal.

What is so special about him? I demanded from my host.

"Meet him and then you will know," I was advised.

Soon I was motoring down to his office, situated behind the district collectorate, almost five kilometre from Leyland DTI.

The officer had graciously offered to pick me up which I accepted.

He had heard about my book, 10,000 KM on Indian Highways and also fully aware that I had labelled RTOs as "Highways Vultures".

Honestly, I was a bit scared of facing Rajnikant.

Given his uprightness and popularity among drivers' community, I felt like a criminal walking into a police station.

Over a cool glass of water, he began to unspool his experience as law enforcement officer on Tamilnadu highways.

His father, Ramakant, was equally renowned in Tamilnadu transport circles for his honesty and fair mindedness.

Like father, like son? Perhaps.

"There was a time when drivers when halted on highways, used to climb down with documents in tact, walk upto us waiting on the roadside, display documents page by page and wait for approval. Invariably, their papers used to be in tact and we used to sign off them in double quick time," said the moustachoied late forties gazetted officer, who has a fascination for vintage cars. He is credited with hosting an annual vintage car rally in Ooty until recently.

At times, he narrated, drivers who had exposure to working in the British time, walk in briskly, get their papers checked and before waking out, used to mouth, "God, bless you, my son!"

He was unspooling his father's and his own expeirence in Ooty where he had served several years before moving down to Namakkal.

From the look of the approaching driver, Rajnikant confides, he can make out that something is amiss. "I trust a lot on body language. It tells you everything even before talks gtranspire,' he adds.Most of the drivers will be shabbily dressed in lungis. Smell of liquor and beedies. Take it for granted that they will be ignorant what papers they carry. They have not been taught or shown and exlained by their supervisors at the loading bay the necessary details.

"When you see them, either sympathy or anger will swell," says he matter of factly.

Not all RTOs are dishonest and look for bribe, he asserts.

There are many like him - he does not say that - who have a spotless record.

Law abiding officers they are, except when political masters - read the ruling class - makes them turn a blind eye to blatant violation of rules and regulations.

We are helpless when we were told not to do certain things. Even if we try to follow the rules, it would be futile, he adds.

According to him, TVS drivers are the best lot. They know their onions. They are fullly aware of contents of papers/documents they are carrying.

You look at these documents and they are off in no time.

No harassment. Smooth passage for drivers with no fear or favour.

He demands an autographed copy of my book which I promised to send from the hotel room.

"Always remember that there are honest RTOs are also in the service. Dont tar all of us with the same brush," says he without any rancour. Amazing guy, indeed.


He reels out a set of names, which I quick jot down in my handbook for future contacts, whom I should meet to get the other side of the picture viz., the honest brigade.

Sometimes, if senior officials are serious, RTOs can do wonders. He cites the case of how lorries carrying sand - a big business in Tamilnadu - refused to cover the material which as is to be expected used to fly in all directions causing traffic disruptions to vehicles that are behind.

Under Rajnikant's instructions and with the district collector's full cooperation, he and his team were to ground all uncovered sand-carrying lorries. Despite initial protests, fleet owners have no other option but to fall in line with Rajnikant's 'cover-your-sand freight' diktat.


"It is a basic requirement and in the interest of all. However, this has somehow been sidestepped. How much extra it would cost to cover the sand with a tarpaulin or plastic cover?," asks he rhetorically.


Somehow, the Traffic Inspector who had halted the truck-on-truck freight of Ashok Leyland coming from Pant Nagar, Uttaranchal to Hosur,Tamilnadu and gingerly got his 'mamool' from my drivers crew flashed back on my memory. He had the gumption to demand that he be photographed with me on the highway and asked a copy be sent. Or how can I forget a lady officer who had halted us carrying polyester granules from Bangalore to Mangalore near Hassan and extracted her pound of flesh? Or the team in Uttar Pradesh on NH 2 near Kanpur were forced to challan for some unclear charges when they noticed my presence in one of the car carriers with Maruti Suzuki vehicles for delivery and learnt that I am a journalist?

There are people like Rajnikant. And there are people, unlike him.

It is mixed world. Isn't it?

Kolkota Diary-4

Suddenly I noticed the young man sitting atop the railing on the side of railway tracks near Santholia railway crossing. A few minutes ago, I had got down from the Tata Sumo with 23-year old Poonjanan Rana at the wheels when he had to halt due to the crossing gates down, denying passage to proceed.

This the first of the five railway crossings we had to encounter before we touched down at Bongaon, our destination over the next few hours. Alam and myself got out to stretch out limbs a bit. I crossed over the track and reached the other side and that is when I noticed Satwan atop the railing.

He quickly smiled when I helloed him and said: "What are you doing at this hour?" just as a conversation starter.

"Just like that," he replied without hesitation.

"From this village?"

"No. Am from Bareilley, Uttar Pradesh," he responded.

"Then, what are you doing here? Came from Bareilley to sit on the railing?" I joked.

He was not offended, but said: "This is my inlaws place."

"Oh! Visiting sasural! (inlaws)," I quipped.

He smiled as a response.

"Then, why are you sitting on the railing? Are you expecting someone in the train about to come?"

I asked because the station was hardly 100 metres away to his right from where he was sitting.

"Nothing of that sort. Just time-passing."

When queried further, Satwan said that his wife has also come along with him and she is at home assisting her mother in cooking.

Satwan, a farmer from Bareilley, did not find anything amiss in whiling away time looking at the railway on both sides and watching the few motorized rickshaws waiting on both sides to ferry passengers who may alight down at the station at whatever intervals.

"Instead of sitting at home, I decided to come here. My home is right across there," he pointed towards his left.

He may not be in his mid-twenties. Perhaps with no worries, he is deriving pleasure  just by sitting on the railings of a railway track. What is cooking in his mind? I wonder.

Am sure, he is least bothered by what anyone is thinking about him.

I recross the railway track since there is no sign of any approaching train.

There is a small tea shop and two men are smoking beedis and sipping tea from mud cups.

"How frequently trains pass through this track?" I ask generally.

They exchange glances and look at me.

"How does it matter?" one of them asks.

Yes, how does it matter.

Another set of carefree people.

Least worried - rightly so - about what happens around them.

What were they doing?

Nothing, pat comes the reply.

Why am I worried about what they are upto?

This nagging has to stop.

I smile and retreat.

I know this inquisitiveness will not go away. Maybe, its inborn or second nature.

Good or bad? Don't know.

***

Noticing the milestone on the National Highway 35 for the first time since leaving Kolkota more than an hour ago, asked Rana to halt. We were passing through Barasat, in 24 Parganas.

Actually, it was Rana who spotted the milestone and alerted us.

We failed to spot the milestone because it was half hidden behind wooden boxes kept on both sides.

The boxes contained some colourless broken clay idols.

I needed an establishment shot - a legacy gathered from TV news reporting to prove that the crew had actually been to the site which it claims to have gone! If anywhere to ask did I really travel in this region and on this stretch, I can flash this milestone with or without me in the frame as a proof. Silly, no doubt. If others don't believe, so what? But it is humane seeking approval of one's actions.

I shot a few frames of the milestone. Two youngsters came running towards and demanded that they also photographed. I obliged. I looked around and that's when I saw Juma Pal, the young girl sitting inside a hut with a boy, a lady and another gent.

"See there," someone said from behind. I turned around to see Parimol Pal, the lanky old, bald man, covering his lower half only.

The toothless man asked me to follow him a few steps from the high road into the hut.
It was a workshop where Juma and others were making idols from clay.

The girl looked quickly and avoided any further eye contact.

Parimol Pal began explaining his art of idol making. They were making not Kali maa, but Ganpati and Radha-Krishna pairs.

"Stopped going to school?" I asked Juma as she was introduced to me by the old man.

She nodded.

Why?

She did not respond.

"Are you happy doing this? Don't you miss your friends who are at school now?"

She looked up. Hesitated a few seconds.

"I studied upto seventh class."

Then why did she stop?

"No money at home to send me to school," she replied.

"She is gainfully employed," chipped in Parimol Pal, her uncle.

Is she?

I preferred silence.

How cruel is this world?

Why this young girl be denied of education beyond what she had done?

What is her father? Is he alive or .....

How much she must be making through this idol making?

The boy, slightly elder to Juma, waved at me with a request to photograph him.

I did.

The woman and man at the back busy with their work also posed for some photos.

I thanked them and walked out.

Who am I question them?

What makes me think that Juma's life will not be good because she has discontinued her education?

My mother's face flashed instantly. She did not study beyond class five.

Her younger brother - my uncle - used to narrate at times how my mother was such a dullard that she did not know even how to copy from his slate in exams. Yes, they studied in same class, before he moved forward.

If only she had studied a little hard ....

If only she had learnt how to copy at least ....

If only she was educated adequately, she would not have been duped by her inlaws to  affix her chicken scrawl signature on property documents - that she did not and could not read and assimilate -that belonged to herlate husband - my father - and rightfully would have been hers - and mine today.

Eyes welled up.

I looked back at Juma and found her hazy image.

I wish she does not become like my mother.

Kolkota Diary-3

Travel expands mindspace is something like a credo to me.

New  surroundings. New set of people. New food tastes. New language. New challenges and new responses.

Yes, there is a lot of''new'ness in travel.

On Day 2 in Kolkota, the die was cast that we would be heading for Petropole - on the Indo-Bangladesh border -  for meeting with Customs Station staff on Saturday. Chief Commissioner of Customs Smt B D Dasgupta categorically warned: "Don't ask for meeting on Friday. It is a holiday across the border. So for our team too. And if you ask for Friday meet, then I have to pull them out of their homes on a holiday. I won't do that."

So, we decided to travel to Bongaon (less than 10 km before Petropole) and lodge ourselves for Friday night and reach Land Customs Station on Saturday first half after prefixing the appointment.

Having done that, we slept Thursday in a Salt Lake guest house for the second night as it was drizzing the whole night - was it? - and woke up Friday morning for the usual tea on the roadside stall and some veg puff and water at the nearby Sweets & Spice eatery.

Checked out just in time as the Tata Sumo arrived.

The next four hours offered such a panoramic countryside view of West Bengal. Blanket green on the entire stretch which I never imagined. Absar Alam, my companion, recalled the Bengal Famine and we chatted on that issue for a while. According to him, India has faced several famines - one worse than the other. If he were to be believed, there were famines even during Emperor Ashoka's reign, Akbar's and the British. Each time, it was a nightmare fighting famine due to poor distribution system that prevailed then.

Many towns and villages which were just tiny or marginally larger dots on the India map became actual spots that we crossed.

From Salt Lake upto Rajhat Main Road, it was a typical 4 lane, landscaped road. It ought to be because the road leads to Dum Dum Airport.  Our Bengali driver kept reminding us that the vast expanse that we were passing by was once upon a time a huge lake and he explained how a local firm bought the entire stretch of lake and filled it up and then sold large swathes of it to various construciton companies.

We could see brisk construction of huge residential and official towers on both sides.

"The potential buyers or occupiers of these flats will never know - unless they are curious - what this place was before their building came about," quipped Absar Alam. Does development mean destroying something natural like a lake? he asked no one in particular..

Suddenly, our passage to Bongaon turned into a narrow and congested road. For a while, we rode on that stretch before everything opened up. There wast a vast open space on both sides. Road was being laid with broken bricks. Over that, a bit of mud was thrown and above that bitumen  (liquid tar) was sprinkled. Am sure, they will throw some more mud/sand and run the road roller and call it that the road is ready!

We halted for a chat with some women workers on highways (see picture above). They said they were working for the past 18 months and no idea how long the work will go on. Driver commented that it would go on and on because the length of road to be laid was very huge and work was happening very slowly.

And there were large water presence on both sides. We learnt these were fish farms. Alam stepped out to click some snaps. Later he confided that back home (in Bihar), his family is into fish farming.

(to be continued)

Kolkota Diary-2

Day 2 began on a pleasant note with constant drizzle and occasional short bursts of heavy downpour. Our day's programme was structured to contact government officials who can help us gain authentic information and provide access to land customs stations about indo-bangladesh trade inputs (commoditywise and route wise) and link up officials at Petropole, situated approx. 100 km from Kolkota.

With an introductory letter from Delhi, we landed up with Directorate General of Commercial Intelligence & Statistics of Ministry of Finance and Department of Revenue at Anandpur area of Kolkota. After a short wait, we met Dr Amitava Saha, Director, and he was more than willing to 'sell' these intelligence inputs for a price - officially, that is.

So long as authentic information is available for a price about anything in India and from Government, I have no hesitation in procuring it. It is altogether another matter that there is a tendency to gain access to these inputs free of cost.

I strongly believe that information is invaluable. Authentic information, more so. The very fact that government which has ultimate access to all legal transactions between these two SAARC nations through surface, air or ocean from various entry/exit points has seen the possibilty of selling these inputs for a price is truly laudable for a variety of reasons.

No doubt, these inputs are definitely accessed by the Planning Commission and relevant ministries at the federal level for formulating policy framework. Similarly research outfits and think tanks should also be ready to buy these inputs to gain an alternate insight into these data and come up with their own policy outline.

Dr Saha briefed us about the procedure to acquire inputs and indicated a 10 day timeframe to provide us the information we were seeking. While DGCI&S would provide us all-India figures, interaction with LCS at Petropole is under the jurisdiction of Kolkota Customs.

Later we moved to Kolkota Customs on the Howrah/Babagarh/Strand Road front. Smt B D Dasgupta, Chief Commissioner of Customers, Kolkota, entertained us and she was already familiar with colleague Absar Alam who had a quick visit to Petropole a few weeks ago.

We subequently met Mr Gurmeet Singh,Commissioner, who had assumed charge only recently and he had already been briefed by Smt Dasgupta over phone in our presence at her office. He is yet to visit Petropol, yet he shared his inputs heard from others with us. He also sought our feedback when we are back.

He has linked us with Assistant Commissioner at Petropol (U C Dass) and categorically stated not to visit on Friday which is a weekly day off on the Bangladesh side and hence there will be very little happening on the Indian side as well.

***
Living in Salt Lake guest house was fine, but searching for early morning tea/coffee was difficult. Barrring roadside tea-cum-eating joints that open up at 5 in the morning, even guest houses don't operate their kitchen before 7 a.m. If you are an early riser and want your hot cuppa soon after you wake up, you had it. I faced this challenge. But gingerly stepped out for a roadside tea.

By the way, the cost of tea varies between Rs.3 and Rs.4.  Yes, you can buy a tea for less than five Rupees in Kolkota. You can have your tea in: small earthern cups, plastic ones or glass ones. You're asked about your choice. Wow!

Except Delhi, you can see the circulation of one rupee and two rupee coins more frequently! A friend said, Delhi is not a "chillar party"! I have been seen this in Chennai, Mumbai and elsewhere.

After every trip outside Delhi I had invariably returned with at least 50 rupees worth of coins! Only to be shunned by shop keepers and DTC bus drivers when you hand over these coins. Even they prefer five rupee coins or notes in any denomination. Big boys!

***

Can't help talking about yellow Ambi cabs in Kolkota. They are dare devils. Like mosquitoes .... sorry, they are everywhere. Omnipresence. Omnipotent! Like mosquitoes. Like God, if you wish. All taxis are metered and we did not come across even a single cab driver negotiating a price for any destination. Printed receipts are promptly given when asked for at the end of each journey! Even racing horses feel shy of competing against Kolkota cabs.

Though I enjoy traveling in Ambassador because it is spacious and comfortable, these Kolkotan cabbies pray for safe passage.

Kolkota roads offer a unique picture: there are trams (British legacy!); there are private mini buses. there are state transport buses; there are yellow cabs; autorickshaws; cyclerickshaws; and, hold your breathe, even handpulled rickshaws. all these compete for roadspace and you can imagine the chaotic scenario. add private cars of all dimensions, motorcycles, cycles  and pedestrians.

***
Talking about the daredevilry of kolkota cabbies, we had a personal expeirence. While returning from Kolkota Customs, it began to rain. Passing through Lenin Sarani, narrow road, you have tram tracks on both sides. our cabbie more or less hit a motorcylist who was thrown out of his vehicle, he flew into space for a short while before landing on the ground with a thump. I jumped out and rushed to the victim. His motorcycle carromed off to go under a stationary public transport bus that had also stopped. the entire traffic came to a standstill. two traffic policemen in the vicinity came running. one quickly flipped his notebook open. Public also gathered. Someone helped the victim to get up and his hands were bleeding and there were some scratches. While all attention was on the victim and the melee in the middle  of the road, my cabbie (I suspect he hit the victim from behind) quitely slipped out leaving me behind.

it was raining and we were all getting drenched. my colleague was inside the cab. Once convinced that victim is not dead, I moved out of the crowd and began looking for my cab. From a distance, I could make out, he was jumping a red signal and dashing across. Maybe he does not want to be stopped and slapped with a police chargesheet. Don't know.

At a distance of 200 metres he halted the cab, waiting for me. My colleague craned his neck out and waved at me. I got in and asked cabbie as to why did he not stop because he has hit him. He said, it is not his fault. The victim was driving very slowly leaving no space for other vehicles and therefore he was hit from behind. What a logic!

I told my cabbie, had this happened in Delhi and if the cabbie tried to run, public would have halted and bashed him up. He did not respond. Maybe he was lucky to skip out any mess.

While it took us almost one hour to reach Kolkota Customs while going, this daredevilry cabbie brought us home in less than 30 minutes. No doubt, he might have taken some short cut. But he was jumping red signals and driving as if he was possessed. Well, this is Kolkota!

Kolkota Diary-1

Am not new to Kolkota, the original imperial capital chosen for managing India by the British. I had come here six years ago as part of tapping talent from eastern India for my Oman-based United Media Services. Times of India Resident Editor Robin Roy (now at Jaipur working for the same publication) was at the Dum Dum airport - what a name! -  to receive and escort me during the two day visit. It was a memorable visit in terms of finding a gem of a person like Robin. About my friendship witih Robin, another time.

This time, around the visit has to be with the study of infrastructural and procedural challenges faced by Indian exporters in pushing stuff to Bangladesh through road. West Bengal's Petropole is the biggest entry point, accounting for 60% of all Indian stuff that crosses into our SAARC neighbour - legally that is. About illegal ways, maybe in another dispatch. With Research Fellow Absar Alam, thirtyish post graduate in economics from Bihar working for Asian Institute of Transport Development, funded by United Nations and accessed regularly by Planning Commission, we have landed in Kolkota for 3-4 weeks stay.

The previous study was done in 2005 and between then and now, there are several positive changes had taken place and both of us here to 'see', 'experience' and 'document'. While Alam has an excellent economics and mathematical grounding, my utility is perceived to be on my linkages with truckers, freight forwarders and several years of business/economic journalistic background. Added to this was the grand reception to my maiden book, 10,000 KM on Indian Highways particularly among the logistics and supply chain domain experts, ministry of road transport & highways and anyone and everyone linked to this sector.

After all, a vast country like INdia's domestic trade and commerce is handed by road transport to the tune of 70%, thanks to the poor marketing and red-tapism prevalent in Railways bureaucracy. Rail, according to pundits, is likely to lose further.

Contrary to Delhi's searing 43 degree Celsius burning heat, our arrival in Kolkota was greeted with constant drizzle and cloudly weather. It was a big relief.

Even before could find the guest house where Alam has got himself positioned 24 hours in advance in Salt Lake area (nice and quiet area), IBM Supply Chain Biggie Anindya Gupta (whom I had known only through emails and phone calls and who had become my constant source of information about east and north east thanks to he having read one of my Road Trip pieces on the web more than a year ago), was physically present to receive me along with Arup Chanda, an ex-colleague from BITV days and now publishing East India Logistix.

In fact, Anindo stood in the long queue to get a prepaid taxi while Arup stood on Sealdah platform when the sky had opened up heavily! What a welcome! Thanks, Anido & Arup!

After a lot of fighting and slanging match in Bengali and Hindi with the taxi desk, we managed to hop onto a yellow-topped Ambassador cab for Salt Lake restobar. Over food, we yak-yaked for almost 2 hours before Anindo looked at the watch to indicate that it is time for him to scoot to work!

Luckily, the guest house was hardly 5 minutes ride away in a cycle rickshaw.

The first meeting was with Samar Jha, the recently retired Member (Finance) of Railway Board. He is supposed to be our local guardian and mentor. Over hot tea and kachoris, he treated us at his Jadhavpur University Road flat, with its twin pets keeping a close vigil on us.

Poring our documents prepared by Alam, we discussed the action plan for the next few weeks and promised to meet soon after first round of calls and visit to Petropole, approx. 100 km away from Kolkota.

By night, the weather has become muggy and even with open windows of Amby cab, we are sweating profusely.

Quick dinner and a bit of planning for engagements for next day followed.

Before hitting bed, Alam gave a 18 page document for me to read and be prepared for a discussion with him next morning.

I decided to taste that after a good night's sleep.

(cont'd)