Ours is a small, well planned town that came up as a part of the township to support the Durgapur Steel Plant during the 1950’s. We live inside the township, and have been living at the same quarters for over 35 years now. My grandfather and grandmother used to work at the Durgapur Steel Plant and the Alloy Steel Plant. From them I have heard many stories about the township and the steel plants.
I have heard stories about the dense jungle that surrounded the town during the 60’s, stories from the era of the militant trade unions and how people used to sneak into the steel plant while a strike was being organized on by the trade unions. These stories seemed so unreal, like fairy tales or tales from the ancient times. Most people would not consider these as stories but would refer to them as just anecdotes, but to me they are like fairy tales.
My grandfather once told me how the municipality used to work during the 60’s and 70’s. He had his own unique way of narrating, taking breaks to roll his cigarette from a tobacco pouch. I will not be able to narrate it in a similar manner but I shall make a humble attempt.
The nearest municipality office is a few hundred yards from our house. So, if you stand at the entrance to our street you will be able to see the municipality office. Now one street lamp in our street was not working for a few days and a complaint had been registered with the office. Since the township community is very close knit and almost everyone is employed by the Durgapur Steel Plant, news about any activity travelles very fast. That day, news spread that the municipality was sending people to replace the street lamp. There was an air of expectation in the air and someone or the other was keeping an eye on the municipality, waiting for them to send people to mend the street lamp.
At around 5 o’clock in the evening, news spread that people were coming out of the municipality to replace the lamp. Everyone in our street flocked to where they could see the municipality – and what a sight it was!
Leading the royal procession for replacing the lamp, was a man in his late 50’s with graying hair, a clean shaven face and black rimmed glasses that made him look very wise and serious. He was carrying a copy in his hand. Following him was another man, a little younger than him, who was carrying a sack of bulbs; who, in turn was followed by another man, slightly younger than him, who was carrying a bag of tools. These three were followed a distance by two men who carried a bamboo ladder. Last of all came a boy, just out of his teens, who walked with a skip in his feet.
This solemn procession of 6 people slowly made its way to our street and halted below the street lamp that was not working. The man who was leading the procession gave instruction for the ladder to be put up. The ladder was put up and one man held it steady. The man who was carrying the bulbs took out a bulb from his sack and handed over the sack to the boy. Adjusting his trousers, he began climbing the ladder. The man with the bag of tools followed him up the ladder to assist. The bulb was now being changed. The man with the copy now adjusted his glasses, opened his copy and began scribbling in details of the activity – when the bulb was changed, who changed it, who all were there, the number of the bulb, and other details like that.
The bulb having been changed, the two men climbed down and the whole process began in reverse. The men got into line and the man with the copy led them back into the municipality office. The great task of changing a street lamp had been successfully accomplished and there was peace once more.
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