WHILE YOU WERE SLEEPING

A Train Driver,  TOI Tracks The Early Birds Of Chennai Who Set The City In Motion Even When Most Of Its Residents Are Still Fast Asleep

V Ayyappan | TNN 

Oct 13, 2008

The 4 o’ clock train to Beach Station 

Chennai: Its 2.30 am. The telephone rings in a house in a quiet neighbourhood of East Tambaram. It does not rattle the residents of the nondescript house, they are used to the phone ringing at that hour. It is the wake-up call for S R Balasubramaniam, a motorman with Southern Railway, who would be driving the first suburban train out of Tambaram railway station that morning. This is how

 a typical day starts for the railway motorman, especially if he is responsible for ferrying the first batch of commuters from the far off southern suburb into the city. 

    The first train starts at 4 am. But commuters — a majority of them travellers who want to catch the early morning train from Egmore and Central — troop in by 3.15 am itself. A few early bird railway employees — operations staff, electrical staff and station masters — are already at their workstations waking the railway station up to face yet another busy and bustling day, even while the rest of the suburb and the city is fast asleep. It's a c

old mistless morning, and Balasubramaniam is ready in a jiffy. Clad in a blue shirt and navy blue trousers complete with the sacred ash on his forehead, he looks fresh even as he steps out at that unearthly hour. “I am supposed to report for duty half an hour before departure,” he says. 

    He arrives in his motorcycle at 3.15 am. “A motorman does not hop into the motor cab and start the engine. There is a lot that needs to be done before that actual driving starts,” he says as he walks into the station master's room to sign in and get the day's ‘caution order’ — a document that contains details of speed restrictions that a motorman should follow on a railway line because of ongoing works or various other reasons that may prohibit the regular cruising speed of 72 km/h. 

    Today there is only one restriction — between Chromepet and Pallavaram. “The caution speed is 20 km/h,” says Balasubramaniam as he climbs into the motor cabin of B2 train, which is on platform number seven, at 3.45 am. He checks the accelerator, brakes and other controls before he pins the caution order onto the instrument panel. A log book is kept open for recording the time taken by the train to reach each station. 

    Nearly 200 people are already on board. More are rushing in. It’s 4.05 am. Balasubramaniam is all concentration: his right hand is on the accelerator, left hand poised on the brakes and right leg on the horn. The moment he gets the ‘all set’ signal from Tulasi, the guard at the tail end of the train, he pumps the horn twice and eases the train out of the station for a 51-minute trip to Beach Station, with tracks gleaming under its headlights. The whole lot of seemingly meaningless boards with numbers and designs that dot either side of the track holds a lot of meaning and sometimes a warning for the motorman. “The yellow triangular board with 20 written on it means it’s a caution area and the speed should be 20 km/h, while at spots where people are prone to being run over, we hoot continuously,” says the loco inspector who accompanies us in the trip. 

    Balasubramaniam is mostly silent because it is dark and he has to watch out for people who are sauntering about the tracks looking for a secluded bush for their morning ablutions. He has to alert several of them during the trip. “These people are a risk. I keep hooting to chase them away. I also keep my hands on the brakes (which is a stainless steel knob) though that does not help because the train cannot be stopped quickly enough to save people,” Balasubramaniam says when the train stops at Chromepet station. “I had a tough time when I had the first run-over of my career. That was several years ago. I had to take up yoga to overcome the stress.” 

    This trip, though, is eventless. The wayside railway stations are all deserted except Tirusulam, which is crowded as if it’s peak hour. “Most of them have arrived by early morning flights,” remarks Balasubramaniam. 

    Dawn breaks by the time the train pulls into Beach railway station a couple of minutes before 5 am. As the commuters rush out, Balasubramaniam and guard Tulasi walk into the crew room to file in the ‘combined train report.’ He will drive one more service — Beach to Chengelpet — before signing off for the day at 8.30 am.