A few years had passed since I had to travel using the most unsafe form of water transport in my city- the unregistered, unlicensed, non monitored, non regulated small country boats. I had reached the 4th standard in my school academic career, grown taller and possibly more brave at heart.
One fine winter afternoon, as far as I remember a Sunday of course, my dad had just come back to India having completed some assignment in Europe and UK. He showed us beautiful pictures that he had clicked using his Yashica camera. Some of the photographs which attracted my attention and very relevant to the current discussion was his boat rides on the river Seine in Paris and the canals of Amsterdam. How safe and beautiful the boats were. There were railings all around, comfortable seats arranged systematically. There was a pilot who operated the boat from the pilot’s cabin adjoining the engine room. There were toilets on the boats, a small bar and cafe. Ceilings open and covered. I was awe stricken. Boats could be so beautiful? Dad boasted about the safety features of the boats including fire safety equipment on board, life saving gears on board. The Pilot was trained and looked smart and presentable like an airline pilot. I was amazed. The boarding and alighting, as dad explained was through a secured jetty onto the boat.
Dad offered to take us for a boat ride that afternoon from Dakhineshwar to Belur on the river Hooghly. I was half obsessed with the French and Dutch boats. I forgot that I was in Calcutta. The family was ready for the picnic cum religious tour to the famous temple of goddess Kali at Dakhineshwar . We reached the temple and paid our respect to the most revered goddess. Thereafter dad directed us to proceed towards the boarding point called ‘ghats’ in Bengal. The boat would take us to Belur matt of Swami Vivekananda who was my childhood ideal and whom I still try to emulate in my spiritual progression. That was the first time I was visiting the Belur Matt. So was excited …very very excited. But the balloon of my spirit was soon deflated at the very first sight of my expected boat ride. Five years have passed but no development I thought. The same black country boat which Suleiman would oar me to cross the Salt Lake creek again confronted me . My happiness was absolutely denuded and I looked at the mighty river Hooghly at that place. It was ten times wider than the Salt Lake creek and I am sure must have been at least five times deeper. I dared not ask my mother who was a national swimming champion and these depths meant nothing to her. In fact the happy irony was my dad, mom and sister were equally good swimmers. I was the only one who had never even stood in a children’s swimming pool.
Anyways, keeping my fear to nurture and gradually subside in me, the four of us boarded the boat. There were no railings, no seats, no toilets, no cafes, no engine, no pilot, no life jackets…just dependence on God and my parents for safety. The photographs dad showed me a few hours back remained a dream only. The boat was a black country boat, the pilot was a boy about 18 years old named Sachin, I remember. Sachin wore a cloth around his waist called ‘lungi’ in Bengal. He was bare bodied and bare foot. Nowhere near the smart well trained pilot of my dad’s boat ride in Paris and Amsterdam. He had one bamboo oar in his hand to take us across the river. He told my father that he had just finished school and could not afford to study anymore . So he was working as a labourer to oar the boat from Dakhineshwar to Belur and back. He earned 500 ( INR) per month. He had no training just self help. The planks were cut in the centre to create place for four of us to balance ourselves and sit down on the floor of the boat.
I asked dad even after so many years why Indian boats are so unsafe? Aren’t there any laws? An eminent lawyer and professor of law, my dad loved sharing his immense knowledge. The rest of the journey was spent in our legal enlightenment. I remember he mentioned something called the The Bengal Ferries Act 1885. the Britishers had legislated. It then extended to Bengal, Bihar and Orissa. Dad said the sole purpose was to collect revenues from Ferry activities. After independence in 1947, dad said that the said Act was adapted to Indian laws. Dad enlightened us as far as I remember that the rules of Bengal Ferries Act 1885 did not include safety aspects of the boatmen, operating procedures and mechanisms of boats and boat making etc. The ferry ghat infrastructure requirements had also not been outlined much in the act. There had been an overall paucity of instruments of enforcing regulatory control measures over the private boat operating services in major water channels. Such boats did have no safety arrangements, yet passengers had no other means but to adopt this means of transportation.
Dad also mentioned a few things about Union List, State List and Concurrent List in our Constitution and that the responsibility of the implementation of rules and regulations related to safety of inland vessels primarily rests with the state governments.
My elder sister who was in the first year of college possibly understood much more than I did. I was only looking at my wrist watch and calculating the time and distance to the shore. The only thought in my mind was how unsafe everything about that boat ride was. I said to myself with my little understanding of the administrative and legislative system at that time, if I ever become a part of the government when I grow up, I shall definitely do something to make boat rides in India similar to what my dad experienced in Paris and Amsterdam…