Fast! Faster!! Fastest!!!

Chennai Central.

Busiest railway station in southern peninsula.

Corporal Ashok Ram Khullar landed in a misty morning.

That was his first journey towards south India from Agra. He was also a stranger to the local dialect and culture. His wheatish complexion and Aryan physique made him more strange in the region.

He came out of the railway station with his heavy luggage without taking any help from the local porters. Someone in the past has already warned him about the porters in the station that they demand exhorbitant charges for carrying even a small weight and load it in an autorickshaw, which has to be hired compulsorily by the passenger.

He scanned for the military truck in olive color with an Air Force logo of concentric tricolor of the national flag. He could not spot it. So he thought it wise to wait in the external verandah watching the swarming humans, moving with selfish motive.

Though Ashok was in his civil dress, his haircut and smart look revealed that he is an airman on transfer from northern India. He was also tired of two days journey in the train.

He was desperately thinking deep about his fate to reach this city for no fault of his.

Ashok was peacefully passing his days, as a technical tradesman in Air Force Station, Agra. He was posted to a bomber squadron. The aircraft in the squadron was canberra. The british kite had helped India during the second war with their arch rival and made to severe a far off region into another independant country.

He used to roam around in the tarmac dressed up in overall, waiting to receive some aircrafts returning after their routine sortie. The pilot on his return from flight, used to brief the various faults and repairs according the tradesman.

"Engine! I could hear some rattling noise on the starboard side at 40K"

"Yes Sir"

"Electrician! The panel lights went off suddenly in the front during a manoeure. Then it came up."

"OK Sir"

"Radar! Your green satin was down during the whole flight after an hour."

"Right Sir"

After the brief, the pilots used to walk briskly to the hangar, with his helmet in hand. They were never tired even after two hours of flight.

Ashok used to attend to the repair, if it relates to his trade.

In Air Force, the shift duty is a comfortable one. If anyone works in the early morning for two hours, he get a full day relief from the duty. Normal working hours is only six hours. Other times are managed by shift duty personnel with a liesurely relief and complete rest. Still the aircrafts fly through out day and night without any rest. Only human beings require rest and recuperation, not the machines if they are maintained properly.

The billet and mess were located on the other side of the runway while admin office, maintenance hangar, electronics lab and workshop were on the opposite side of his residence. He was owning a bicycle to attend to his work since the blast pens to house individual aircraft during operations were very far and cannot be covered by walk. The accommodations provided to the personnel was very old used by the former imperialist forces. The toilet is also very old. That system was a deep trench type. The type which is not known or unimaginable to the present generation and require some detailed explanation.

A 15X20 feet trench with a depth of 10 feet is dug first. Then the pit is covered by cement slab at ground level. A hole of half a feet diameter is made with two steps adjacent to it. Then the wall is built around each one with a door to make it a latrine. There used to be rows of such latrines in a independant structure and a centre passage. The water has to be carried in a bottle for use. The taps are not provided for sole purpose of avoiding the trench to be filled by more water than the night soil. The system has worked for more than thirty years and continue to meet the requirement even at present. Bath rooms with taps were in another building.

That day was a early morning flight duty for Ashok. The alarm clock helped him at awake at 4 o' clock in the morning. He washed his face and got himself dressed up in overall and canvas shoes. That is a comfortable dress than the normal khaki uniform with a belt and shoe. He was right on time to see off four or five flights and came back at 8 o' clock to his billet.

He thought of taking rest after the morning habits and breakfast. He wanted to ease himself from the bloated abdomen filled with urine and stool. He removed the overall and changed into casuals. He took a empty beer bottle and filled with water. Then he walked towards the latrine building standing away from other residential billets. Since the normal working hours have begun, there was no rush and hardly few were there using the latrine. He occupied a room and closed the door. When he was about to ease himself, the cement slab gave way and lo! he fell down inside the filthy water and slushy night soil. He was shouting for help. People using the adjacent latrines could realise the mishap. They came out and shouted.

Immediately fire tender was called for rescue. The ambulance also arrived from the station health unit. Since the pit was not deep, he was standing in the mixture of water and stool. He claimed the ladder tainted in light yellow but surrounded with a unbearable smell. He was bathed and whisked away in the ambulance.

The message of mishap spreaded like a wild fire.

When he returned from the health unit, none was ready to talk to him even. They were treating him like a pariah and he had to dine alone in the mess. All the fingers in the station pointed towards him, reminding him about the unfortunate incident. He was unable to tolerate the behaviour of his fellow airman. He was left alone in the billet, mess, tarmac. Even the routine work was not allotted to him. He had no other way except to meet the Commanding Officer and ask for a transfer to a farthest station. His request was acceded and at last got his transfer to south through a telex message from high command. He was also relieved immediately. Thus he arrived at the Central Station awaiting for his Air Force truck to take him to Air Force Station, Avadi in the outskirt of the city.

"Are you an airman?" A young man in Air Force uniform enquired.

Ashok came back from his pensive mood. "Yes", he said.

"How much time we have to search you? You could have stayed in the platform. Already half an hour is over in search of you. Are you posted to Avadi or Tambaram ?"

"To Avadi. Where is the truck?"

"Come then. The vehicle is parked on the other side. Pick up your luggage.",the driver was very quick in his speech as well as action.

Ashok followed him with his luggage and climbed inside the truck through the rear side looking like a balcony. Some people inside the truck also helped him. The truck had no seat and the personnel had to stand and travel usually.

It was a short journey and the truck entered the main gate of Air Force station, Avadi.

After a short check and entry at the gate by the Air Force Police, he was dropped near a billet.

He entered inside the billet with his luggage to occupy a vacant cot.

All the occupants were curiously watching the newcomer.

One sikh among them asked in his native dialect.

"Friend. Where are you coming from?"

"Agra."

"Are you from # Squadron?"

"Yes"

"Are you Cpl.Ashok?"

He was astonished to hear his name.

"Yes. I am"

"Oh! You are the man who fell in the deep trench latrine."

He met a thunder. He felt ashamed and sat on his cot without undressing, in a desperate mood.

Concluded.