The Bulldozer.

Gopan Nair came out from the house into the pre-dawn chill carrying a blue fibre suitcase. He placed it carefully at the back of the Jeep and took a deep breath. That almost completes it, he said to himself with a sense of relief. The heavy luggage had been dispatched by truck the day before. Only Malini’s leather travel bag remained. That would have to wait till she finished changing.

For a moment Gopan wished that he could go in and chat with his wife while she dressed. He used to do that three years back, during the first few months of their marriage. It was different those days.

Gopan walked to the front of the Jeep where the young driver sat wrapped in a blanket. The man gave him a quick glance and looked away.

Gopan moved off with a faint shrug. That was how they treated him. Never friendly. It would be same at the new place too, he was sure. His nickname ‘The Bulldozer’ would have reached there already. He did not care about that, did not bother with those who said things behind his back. They were not aware of the truth. But Malini was different. She should have understood.

He turned around and looked at the steel plant some distance away, silhouetted against the gentle glow in the eastern sky. It was an awe-inspiring sight. The gigantic structure towered over houses of the township around it, glowing with thousands of lights. Half a dozen chimneys emitted gases of different hues that curled up softly in the air, making the picture alive. ‘The Site’, Gopan thought proudly.

He had come there when ‘The Site’ was a large, almost barren tract of land in central India. There was one isolated village on it. Gopan could remember clearly the morning he stepped down at the improvised railway station. There were other engineers like him as well, and several workmen from different parts of the country. Most of them were young.

They had formed themselves into a dedicated team, toiling to meet deadlines, sometimes working up to sixteen hours a day. Life was tough initially, living in tents and eating from a makeshift canteen. But ‘The Site’ transformed rapidly. Roads were laid, water and power supply systems were established and a hospital, clubhouse and canteen were completed with record speed. In one year’s time the steel plant was taking shape, changing the skyline each day as construction progressed. Township also started to grow. Tents gave way to little houses of uniform pattern.

Gopan Nair married towards the end of his second year there. Malini had been his junior in school. She was a quiet, kind - hearted girl, rather thin with long curly hair and dark eyes. He took her with him to ‘The Site’ two weeks after the wedding. Leave was scarce because work had to proceed according to schedule. All that the big bosses were concerned about was to complete the project within the stipulated time.

It was in trying to keep to the time frame that Gopan ran into problem. He had sensed trouble even as he stopped his Jeep in a cloud of dust at the village where work on a new sector of township was to commence.

From his vehicle Gopan saw the elderly villager standing a few feet ahead of the path that lay between two rows of mud huts, holding a long staff firmly planted on the ground. The man wore a turban and a shawl was wrapped around his torso. His thick, white moustache drooped slightly at the ends. The man was in the shade of an old Banyan tree. On a square earthen platform at its base were statutes of gods and goddesses.

There were men, women and children in the background watching silently.

“What do you want?” The villager asked harshly as the engineer approached. His eyes were hostile.

“You see,” Gopan spoke mildly, trying to explain. “We –”

The old man interrupted him stating, “You want us to leave.”

“Yes.”

“And go where?”

Gopan did not answer. The villagers were offered good compensation for their land months back. It should not have been difficult for them to find another location to settle down.

“Go where?” the headman repeated bitterly. “Where am I to take those people, leaving behind ashes of our forefathers? We have been staying here for generations. This place is ours.”

“Your land,” Gopan said calmly, “is required for our project. That is why I am here.”

“Project,” village chief said with sarcasm. “My project is my people. Do you know that one of those women is expecting any time? Her first baby. She will not survive a shift from here.”

“Take her to the site hospital,” Gopan suggested. “They won’t charge you anything.”

“Your hospital?” The tone was abrasive. “They will kill her. And the baby as well. We have our own methods and rituals.”

Controlling his frustration, Gopan said firmly, “You had plenty of time. Even last week I sent you a message that you should quit at least by today. This land now belongs to us. You have to go. At once.”

The chief spat. “We shall not go,” he stated.

This was contrary to what the Divisional Engineer had told Gopan. Now the only solution seemed to be removing them by force.

“Well then,” Gopan said, “you will be evicted physically. I’ll be back with men and machines early tomorrow.” He turned abruptly and headed for the Jeep.

“We shall be here,” old man shouted after him.

They were there too, when the engineer returned with a support team next morning. The previous afternoon he had informed his boss about the situation. The Divisional Engineer was appalled.

“Listen,” DE had said, “take all the men you need. I’ll talk to the security chief. Work must proceed according to schedule. Don’t create any problem though. Handle it smoothly.” He paused momentarily, and whispered, “Confidential reports are going out next month.”

“Shall I,” Gopan asked, “put up a note saying that there is resistance?”

“No, no,” DE protested. “It may go right up to the GM. That would take time and our program would be upset. As I told you, confidential reports –”

“Are due next month,” Gopan completed the sentence and got up.

“Actually,” DE went on, “it was the fault of revenue department. They should have given us vacant possession.”

Why did you take non-vacant possession? Gopan suppressed the question and walked out.

In the morning, as Gopan was about to leave for the village, something else happened that disturbed him further. Strangely, it had come from Malini. As he stepped out of the house, she called him from behind. His grandmother used to say, he remembered, that calling back a person leaving on a mission, was a bad omen.

Malini went forward, touched her husband’s arm and asked, “Can’t you let them stay till the child is born?”

“I’ll see that she is shifted to the hospital.”

“But Gopan,” the wife protested, “these people are superstitious. They have their own taboos and customs and beliefs.”

“And half their babies die at birth.”

“That’s in the hands of God.”

Gopan left without another word.

He was still angry when he reached the village ahead of a van load of security personnel and a bulldozer. The village chief was at the same spot where he had stood the previous day. He seemed glued to earth, a part of it, and so immovable. A young man was beside him. Gopan could see other villagers in huddles further away. Their faces were not clear in the morning mist.

Smell of jasmine hung heavily in the windless atmosphere. Gopan noticed white flowers scattered around the deities under the tree.

Security guards in khaki uniforms had scrambled out of their vehicle with batons and shields. Their sergeant, a big-made Anglo-Indian, started a drill. Commands shot out from him and his men followed them to near perfection. It was impressive.

Gopan ignored the village chief who was watching with narrow eyes, and walked over to the bulldozer. The tough looking Sikh driver grinned.

“Move her into position,” he ordered.

Still grinning, the Sikh manoeuvred the machine in line with a row of huts and stopped about twenty-five feet away.

The sergeant had finished the exercise. He went to Gopan and reported, “We’re ready.”

“What do you suggest?”

“A swift action. Four men will block entry into first two huts. Twelve will push the crowd back if necessary. Simultaneously, four guards remove chief and his lackey into the van. That leaves four men in reserve. Plus the driver and me.”

“And we send in the bulldozer,” Gopan said.

“Yes. But demolish only two huts and stop. Give them a chance to gather their belongings and leave.”

“Suppose they fight back?”

“Unlikely. Morale is low. They’re not armed. There may be some weapons hidden inside clothes. We can handle that.”

Gopan hesitated.

“It has to be done now,” sergeant stated with emphasis. “Delay might cause problems.”

“Wait for my signal,” Gopan instructed the sergeant and approached the chief. He met the old man’s gaze, and said commandingly, “The machine will start now. Vacate immediately.”

Village boss looked at him with dignity. He seemed calm and self-assured. “This is our home,” he said. “We are staying.”

To be continued.