Unsung heroes

They work quietly and efficiently, like little cogs that are all important to the smooth functioning of a larger machine. If India is moving, growing, learning and communicating every day, it is because they don't pause, despite the massive hurdles. It's time to thank them

Akash Bisht Delhi/Mewat

Vijay Sauda, Postman, Malviya Nagar (Delhi)

“Seedha Saadha Dakiya,

Jaadu kare mahan,

Ek hi thaile main liye,

Aansu or muskaan”

Vijay Prakash Sauda is a 40-year-old postman working in Malviya Nagar, Delhi, who recites this poem every time anyone asks him about his job. A veteran at the job with 25 years of work behind him, he is anxiously awaited on his daily route as the bearer of glad and sad tidings, proud to work for an organisation that has been dedicated to the service of the nation for years.

“People treat me with a lot of respect, like a demi-God,” he says, with a smile. “I often deliver post to illiterate people who ask me to read their letters and break into tears after hearing from their loved ones.” He particularly cherishes reading letters from soldiers posted in remote terrains to family members.

Life as a postman has its own lows. Sauda blames the government for not recognising the efforts of postmen to deliver letters to the right address, given the fact that the city is organised so haphazardly and mail is often incorrectly or incompletely addressed: “Senior officials say that courier boys perform their jobs better than postmen. But are they connected to the people? Do they get showered with gifts during festivals and invited to family weddings like I do? Postmen handle much more than mails. They are part of the community.”

Sauda and his colleagues at the postal department believe the government does not spend money sensibly. “Recently, the toilet in our post office was reconstructed at a cost of Rs 2 lakh. Now the toilet looks better than the entire post office. The government purchased generators but hasn't used them to date. It bought us mopeds but hasn't paid for their maintenance. Our uniform is made of the cheapest fabric and is intolerable in the hot and humid summer. What do you call this? I call this insanity,” rues Sauda with a grin.

Raj Kumar, Bus Driver, Himachal Pradesh

Room number 311 at the Inter State Bus Terminus (ISBT) in Delhi is a depressing place for bus drivers who drive more than 1,100 kms every day in difficult and tough terrain to help hundreds reach their destinations safely. The large room, a space given to drivers to rest between journeys, stinks terribly, and it has no proper ventilation, not even a cheap cooler in this heat. Fatigued drivers, half-asleep, hurl abuses at the mosquitoes and fellow drivers, crowded in this claustrophic and abysmally unhealthy place.

“We don't have beds to rest, the toilets are so dirty that we use the paid public toilets and there is no facility of clean drinking water,” says Raj Kumar, a 45-year-old driver with the Himachal Road Transport Corporation (HRTC). For the past 15 years he has been driving on the tricky Delhi-Palampur mountain route. He and his colleagues want to know why they are not treated at par with other government employees who sit in airconditioned offices. “Our job is tough. We drive on treacherous terrains. A momentary slip in concentration can take my bus downhill and kill many instantly. I need sleep and rest. I don't want an airconditioned room but don't we deserve clean and cool rooms, toilets and drinking water?” asks Kumar.

In fact, say other drivers, Delhi is the only station that has a rest room - at other bus stations they have to sleep in their buses, braving heat or cold. “It's not an easy job. If I were to ask a minister's driver to do my job, I bet he'd quit in a day,” says Kumar, grimly.

Despite the complaints, the drivers take pride in working with the roadways. “We help people and that is our topmost priority,” they say. HRTC has won several awards for its disciplined driving but its drivers have seen no change in their fortunes. “The transport minister happily queues up at the award ceremony and gives long interviews to the media; but we, the drivers, feel neglected and condemned despite our best efforts,” says Kumar. 

Mahendra Singh, Doctor, Mewat (Haryana)

Mahendra Singh is a 40-year-old doctor who has been working in the backward area of Mewat, Haryana, for more than 18 years. All these years he has never asked for a transfer and believes it is his responsibility to work with the “neediest people in India”, who trust him completely.

Singh is also grateful to the people of Mewat. “People love and respect me here. In the city, once I am out of the hospital gate, I will get lost in the crowd,” he says.

Singh is always surrounded by his patients. He treats them gently although he sometimes loses his cool and scolds them for not following his prescriptions or consulting local quacks and maulvis. “Because the people here believe in maulvis, they bring the patients to the hospital only when the religious doctors don't show results. Sometimes it is too late to do anything,” says Singh.

Mewat is dominated by the Muslim community and is extremely resistant to change.  This not only made Singh's job more challenging but was extremely hard on his family. His wife and children felt isolated, there are no good schools in Mewat; distressed, he finally sent his family to the city.

Although Singh is passionate about his work in Mewat, he does not want his children to suffer like other children in the area. “I look forward to a day when no children in Mewat will die, when they are all able to attend good local schools. My personal life has suffered a lot because of my work but for me a doctor's work is the work of god, which is to save as many lives as possible without any prejudice,” he says. 

Sunita Devi, Teacher, Mewat (Haryana)

Sunita Devi is a 29 year-old anganwadi teacher in Rehna village in Mewat. She has more than 70 children in her class. Sunita is respected in the entire village for being a brilliant teacher who has worked hard with amazing dedication to ensure that more and more girls enroll in school.

“These children are my family. It is my duty to see that they get the best education and become empowered,” says Sunita. She loves teaching and sacrificed a teacher's job in a private school in Sohna to work in Rehna. “The private school will get another teacher but who would want to work in a backward area like Mewat?” she asks. “People here don't want to send their children, especially girls, to school. I have to go to every house and convince parents to send them. Sometimes, the villagers turn hostile towards me,” she adds.

“The worst part of my job is the food that is distributed to children. Parents fight with me that the food provided is not enough and it becomes very difficult to handle them. They don't understand that the food is meant for the kids, not for the entire family. Worse, to get the rations, I need the signature of the mahila sarpanch and she wants Rs 100 every time she signs,” complains Sunita. The teacher has to use her own utensils to cook the food as the money allocated for the utensils is still with the sarpanch who hasn't released it despite numerous requests.

But, says Sunita cheerfully, “These are not such big issues. My main job is to teach the kids and nothing will deter me from doing so. I get immense satisfaction in teaching these kids and that's what matters to me.”