For hearse driver Ranveer Kumar, it was an uneventful drive from a Delhi hospital to Bengal until he overheard an unusual conversation between the grieving parents of a teenager whose body lay in a freezer box next to them. They discussed skipping the cremation ritual and instead preserving the body of their child.

Ranveer brought the hearse to a halt. He had to convince the distraught parents that their plan could spell legal troubles for them. “It was the first time they had seen a freezer box. It gave them the idea of keeping their son’s body in a box at home forever,” said Ranveer.

When they reached the family’s native village, Ranveer ensured he saw the cremation before driving back to Delhi. “Such behaviour by grieving relatives of dead people is not unusual,” he says.

Ranveer would surely know. He is among scores of hearse drivers in Delhi who often transport bodies of people to places as far as the northeast and south Indian states. These include migrants who die during treatment or are killed in tragedies or while cleaning sewers.

The hearse drivers are among the first to closely interact with the families of the dead in their early moments of grief and mourning. From offering comfort to ensuring the mourning relatives eat on the way, the drivers say they do everything in their capacity to lessen the grief.

On most occasions, the relatives of the dead refuse to have anything on the way. The drivers say they make it a point to halt the van from time to time and persuade them to have tea and snacks.

“Sometimes they say their faith doesn’t allow them to eat before cremation, but I tell them that the particular death is unusual. Not every dead person’s body is taken on a 24-hour drive,” says driver Manoj Kumar, who ends up making such outstation trips every fortnight.

Manoj, 33, drove ambulances before he took to driving hearses. “I was hired because of my ability to drive for hours without lack of concentration. This is necessary because most families of the dead want to reach home at the earliest and without any break, even if the journeys are over 24-hour long,” says Manoj.

When Manoj returns home, all that his elderly mother wants is he should bathe immediately. “Initially, I would share stories of my journeys with my family. But I realised we would all be gloomy for hours after that. Now I keep my experiences to myself. These deaths remind me that life is so uncertain,” says Manoj.

Driver Chunmun Kumar, who scouts for clients outside Safdarjung Hospital, once drove a family that announced their decision not to mourn the death of an elderly relative. Instead, they sought Chunmum’s permission to drink. Soon they were all holding each other and weeping badly, recounts Chunmun.

While some mourn all along the journey, there are a few who isolate themselves. Some younger people plug in earphones and play loud music that probably allows them to “drown their sorrows”.

“A few months ago, there was a woman who asked me to play a sad song loud. Minutes later, she was crying her heart out at her father’s death. She just wanted the music to drown out her cries. I struggled to control my own tears,” says 61-year-old driver RK Chautala, who has lost count of his outstation trips.

With three decades of experience as a hearse driver, Chautala knows exactly how to deal with different people. “I travel with a corpse almost every week. I try to strike a conversation with relatives of the dead and offer my advice. Some listen attentively and feel better, others want to be left alone,” says Chautala.

Many of these hearse drivers are members of the All Ambulance Operators Welfare Association. Nearly 150 hearses and ambulances are available outside Delhi’s AIIMS and Safdarjung Hospital. Other big public hospitals such as Lok Nayak and GTB Hospital too have a large fleet.

The charges range between Rs 12 per kilometre after a fixed distance for a van and up to Rs 20/km for tempo travellers. The customers must pay for the return journey as well. While the basic vans are without air-conditioning and the freezer box on one side, the better ones are partitioned to provide privacy to mourners.

The hearse owners usually demand money upfront, but say they offer discounts to the poor or to those who haggle. “We need the money in advance because it is risky to ask for payment upon reaching the destination. The relatives get emotional after meeting their families and asking for money at that stage could leave people infuriated. There have been occasions when people have taken advantage at the last moment,” says Chautala.

Kishan Chand Barwa, president of the association’s Delhi unit, says the job of hearse drivers is a tough one. “We have to be family to the grieving relatives while ensuring our eyes stay on the road. While most of our drivers are experienced, we brief newcomers about how to be sensitive to the grieving families,” he says.

Though most hearses – which also serve as ambulances -- have a partition, separating the relatives from the driver and conductor, their interaction during the journeys is inevitable. In the process, they frequently overhear private conversations. Often they join in.

Most relatives spend their time discussing memories of the dead. Then there are those who blame doctors for the death throughout the journey. Many others are practical as they spend the time discussing insurance, property, savings and immediate expenses.

“The son of a man who was killed in a road accident asked me about the process of claiming accident benefits the moment he hopped into the hearse. I shared the contacts of an advocate I knew. Before the journey came to an end, the man had struck a deal with the advocate,” says another driver, Baldev Kumar who has learnt from his experiences as a hearse driver and insured his family.

Every now and then, the hearse drivers come across bodies accompanied by only a single relative. Though each hearse has two drivers, Barwa says they try to spare an extra driver just to comfort the lonely relative.

“I accompanied a man on one such journey. He had lost his young brother to illness. I sat by him through the entire journey. He fondly recounted his memories with his brother since their childhood. He continued to call me for months after that,” says Barwa.

RK Chautala says he often receives phone calls on his return journey. They ask him about his location and want to know if he is returning safely. In those moments, the relatives see even the smallest acts of these drivers with much gratitude, says Chautala. He doesn’t play any music in his vehicle when he returns. “I am used to these tragedies now. But every journey still leaves me sad. I silently contemplate on life and death while returning,” says Chautala.

First Published: Nov 11, 2018 13:01 IST