Tornagallu Diary - 2

Ramesh Kumar

On the Sunday morning bus ride in mid-April 2017 from Vidya Nagar complex in Toranagallu (the exquisitely planned township by JSW Steel Limited) to Nandihalli Hub boasting of railway siding (to ferry iron ore brought from pitheads by trucks for onward journey to JSW steel plant (40 km away) and  the maintenance facility of Ashok Leyland and Hino dumpers, I sat next to Anjanappa, a drilling operator deployed at Kumaraswamy Iron Ore mines, contracted out by the National Mineral Development Corporation (NMDC) to JSW Steel.

In broken Kannada (mine, of course) mixed with Hindi, I broke ice with him to satiate the hunger of the curious cat in me. He hopped into the bus of JSW Steel at Muraripura, nestled between Toranagallu and Sandur.

"Tell  me, why so many trucks parked at the entrance to your village?" I beseeched this mid-thiryish skilled operator.

He guffawed.

"Yakke nagutheera?"(Why are you laughing?). It was me in Kannada, trying to reconfigure the language that I had learnt forty years ago (1977-1980) when I began my career in Bangalore with Macmillan India, the prestigious publishing house. With time and lack of avenues to speak in Kannada outside the state and in my domain, this capability withered away. So, ever since landing up in Toranagallu, I made up my mind to reconnect with this language. If someone laughs at my mistakes, so what? Trial and error method!

Muraripura, according to him, consists of 260  homes with a population of 1,200. Okay. What has that got to do with the stranded trucks on the State Highway 40, connecting Torangallu with Gudligi via Sandur?

The trucks are about to drive into the Thimmappanagudi mines, situated near the village, on a slightly higher plane. They get parked in a long queue and the village is visible from their cabins. So what?

Well, that's the interesting story to share.

The village has few toilets and therefore ... you know the rest ....

Between six and seven in the morning and the same timeslot in the evening, the fairer sex step out into the open to fertilize the barren ground. And, the truckers, if allowed, will have a bird eye view of this "open defecation practice". Villagers wish to avoid displaying such a spectacle to the wandering tribe: truck drivers. Hence, a ban on any movement of trucks onto the steep mountainous climb to the Thimmappanagudi mines during those specified or pre-notified timeslots.

Two days later, I drove into Muraripura for an interaction with the villagers, which boasts of each home sending at least one male member into trucking career. Armed with some sweetmeats in a non-airconditioned Bolero pick up, I step out in the village road and soon a sizeable gathering of people of all ages - no women, mind you! - surrounded me to check who the hell I am and what was the purpose of my visit to their hamlet. Not hostile, but friendly of course.

Again in a concoction of broken Kannada and Hindi, the question of lack of toilets at home and open defecation came up for discussion.

They concede that some houses do have toilets, not all. Okay. Why the reluctance to  build one?

"How can you have a toilet inside your home? Indecent and bad!" bursts out elderly Hanumanthappa. Floored, yes. How many toilets I have in my own home? Two. That too in a 2BHK flat in Delhi.

When you have so much of open space to extricate your waste, why confine yourself in a closed room? Claustrophobia! Another line of argument. Nothing novel because I have been used to this rationale from thousands of truck drivers I had met since 2010. Forget it. In fact, I practised Open Defecation myself throughout my 28000 Km truck trips. It is a morning chore none can postpone. It has to be instant and no options.

In fact, my maiden book, 10,000 KM on Indian Highways published in 2011 and included in the Library of Congress, Washington, opens with the chapter aptly titled, "Always In Public!" Yes, wherein I narrate my experience!

Young and unmarried Ravi, a truck driver from the same hamlet, responds to my query as to what about government funding under Swatch Bharat Abhiyan wherein approx. Rs.12,000 is dished out to each household that would like to build its own toilet: "Those who came to propagate were not serious, it looks."

Does it mean Muraripura is ready to give up Open Defecation 100%? Looks like. But a lot of convincing needed on a sustained basis to  make Prime Minister's SBA dream project a reality in the southern state of Karnataka.

Keep getting heavy dosage of Param Iyer, Secretary in the Ministry of Drinking Water and Sanitation in the Central Government, visiting a lot of villages across India felicitating launch of toilets at the grassroots level. Hope he gets time to visit Muraripura.

On my exit out of Muraripura, I buttonhole a few drivers on SH40 and seek their views on this halt on highways practice to save the modesty of Muraripura fairer sex.

"I don't know why we halt for an hour in the morning and evening here. But if that is what this villagers wish, understandable," says one, peeping out of his cabin. Another innocently asks: "Is Rs.12,000 sufficient to build a toilet?"

How about companies in the vicinity - for instance, JSW Steel Limited with a Foundation of its own and a huge corpus under CSR - turning their gaze towards this socially impactful work?

(To be continued)

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