A railway coach is a mere sheet of cotton steel, wound as a gigantic coil, before its birth. We see it waiting to be loaded into a cut-to-length machine at the shell division of the Integral Coach Factory at Perambur. The coach begins its journey at the grease-stained floors of the factory — it will soon travel across the nooks and crannies of our country and abroad. Engineers and technicians here prepare it for the countless journeys it will undertake during its lifetime of 25 years. We spend a day rubbing shoulders with these men who’ve probably spent most of their lives in the company of machines than with people.
“Watch your step. Be very careful,” instructs senior section engineer P. Sreeramulu as he leads us into the mammoth shell division, our first stop. Here is where the outer skeleton of the coach is made. Man and machines work together to create a rectangular metal masterpiece that will be embellished with curtains, fans, cushioned seats and more at the fabrication division a little distance away.
At first sight, the sheer magnitude of machinery, fascinates. The sounds sweep over us — clang! bang! drrr! zap! clackety-clack! We step inside to be embraced by the smell of metal and oil. Technicians nod at us as they turn a knob here and control a conveyor there.
Sreeramulu, a mechanical engineer who began his career at the ICF, remembers days when the unit had more people than machines. But as the years rolled on and technology advanced, machines helped cut down the workforce. “From 16,000, the workforce is now over 12,000, of which 20 to 25 per cent is women,” he explains.
A 1,000-ton hydraulic press rams at a sheet, which will later be a side pillar; a laser cutting machine sculpts metal to mechanical precision; a profile bending machine gives shape to the roof… the metal creature that’s shaped before our eyes gradually grows in size. At the assembly wing, units including the under frame, coach bottom and the bogie are fit to shape the skeleton of the coach.
But all the drama happens at the fabrication unit. Several coaches, in various stages of undress, wait to be made-up. The trademark blue curtains peep from just done-up windows; a labourer seats himself on an upper berth of a coach, his head behind a curtain of wires; two technicians are busy chattering away as they do the electrical wiring… the men travel from one coach to the other adding elements to what was once a lifeless metal frame.
Technician K. Prabu is testing the controls at the driver’s cabin — he scribbles something in his notepad as he nods to himself. He pats the shaft with a red button at the handle. This structure, that’s part of the ‘master controller’ of the train, is the single most important switch that’s responsible for every movement of the train.
“It’s called the ‘dead man release’,” explains Prabu. “The driver will hold it down to put the train in motion. If he releases it, the train will come to a stop.” The name is derived from the fact that if the driver releases the button, it means he’s in grave danger.
ICF at a glance
* According to K.N. Babu, secretary to the general manager, the ICF manufactures seven coaches a day.
* Their 5,0000th coach was flagged off on July 6, 2015.
* ICF’s coaches are exported to countries such as Thailand, Burma, Taiwan, Bangladesh, Philippines, Vietnam and Sri Lanka
* The organisation meets its electrical energy requirement through windmills put up in Tirunelveli district.
* Their recent introduction includes LHB stainless steel coaches whose maintenance is cost-effective. Babu foresees that such coaches will replace cotton steel coaches in the next 5 years.
* According to material available with the ICF, the first ICF-manufactured coach was flagged off by Jawaharlal Nehru on October 2, 1955.
* The factory was constructed in 1952 — the first machine was installed by the then Railway Minister Lal Bahadur Shastri on January 20, 1955.
