A House in the City

The rich pastures, straying cattle, flowing water, playful innocent children, panchayat of elderly men and women and field birds of my hometown got replaced by the agglomerates, squatters, tightly packed houses, big industrial setups, pollutant factories, vehicular traffic, ever busy men, women and children and aged community was rarely to be seen. The growth in the city fascinated me. I used to appreciate the big structures erected by crafted architects. As a child, I always wanted to be an architect but could not pursue my education after eighth standard owing to floods in our village which destroyed our fields and we landed in most poverty stricken sections of the society. I dreamt of travelling in the Delhi Metro the moment I heard about it. I knew it would be a costly affair. But, in any case, I was planning to shift to a metropolitan city in search of a better living. The fields were not yielding any crop. I saw my youngest son die of malnutrition. I wanted to earn some respectable money and send it to my family. And, later on, I wanted buy a house in the city from my savings so that my family could come and stay with me. This would have secured a better future to my children who would study in city schools.

When the landlord asked for his share in the crop which had not yielded and blamed me of making his land barren and infertile, I decided to shift to Delhi which is the hub of all development. On my way, I observed the peculiar differences in scenic presentation of the village and the city, the way people dressed and talked, etc. No one had time for anyone. The city lacked warmth. But the industries and factories invited me to show my hard work and earn well to keep up my family life.

The journey was not very difficult except that the heat almost melted me and I had no water left to dampen my throat. One of my village friends, Ghanshyam, who was settled in Delhi and was considered a ‘babu’ in the village as he used to come with many electrical instruments and his children were admitted to city schools, came to receive me on the bus stop. I had written to him and he had ensured that he can try and get me a job in the same factory where he was employed.

We went to his house. It was not a pucca settlement but not even a kutcha settlement like in our village. Those houses are atleast made of mud and fodder. These were tent like houses. I did not ask him anything but I think he had read the expressions on my face. He said, “What happened, Shankar Babu? Now, you’ll also be a ‘babu’. So why do you look disappointed?”

I told him that these settlements were worse than villages and I thought we would live in some good city houses. “You have been living here for more than five years. Were you not able to buy a pucca house?” He did not answer my question then and asked me to proceed for a bath and we could discuss this over lunch. I saw his children come back from school and relax the most unhygienic corner of the tent. There were lots of ants and mosquitoes coupled with the household dustbin there. I sat for lunch with his family after taking bath in holy but dirty water of Yamuna where they and their neighbouring households used to take bath, wash clothes and use it for multifarious purposes like for drinking and cooking. The condition of water here was worse than the water lakes and tube wells of our village. At least we took great care of not dumping tobacco, plastic bags, paper etc. in the water resources. But, people in the city did not bother. They threw many things from the over bridge. Some even dumped flowers and ashes there.

It was during the lunch time that Ghanshyam told me that it was not easy to acquire a pucca house in the city. He said, “Delhi is very expensive. Whatever I earn is spent on basic amenities of food and clothing. How can I even think of a pucca house when I barely have money to feed my family? I am happy with this so long as the factory adjoining the banks of Yamuna keeps me employed. I do not have to go too far. Therefore, I save on my bus fares and instead send children to school.”

The word ‘fare’ somewhat reminded me of Delhi Metro and I asked him, “Why don’t you try to work in Rithala, Shahdra, and other places as Metro touches many places speedily.”

He looked at me as if he was making a small child understand the harsh truths if life and death, and said, “Metro is not meant for people like us. We earn hardly sixty to seventy rupees a day and can not afford to pay twenty rupees in travelling alone by metro. In the last two years, I have traveled just once by metro when children wanted a picnic. I had to spend eighty rupees that day just to avail metro services coupled with other expenditures amounting to forty rupees.”

At that moment, I kept silent about my desire to travel in metro and thought I would definitely travel one day when I start earning. I was musing over this when his speech interrupted me. He said, “That is why we have chosen to live close to the factory. This ensures our livelihood and cuts down the cost of travelling. Also, we can come home whenever children need our help. By the way, Sunita is also working in the same factory. One person alone can not maintain a family here so we have to be broadminded to let our wives work with us.”

I was surprised when I got to know that bhabhi ji was working in the same factory and carrying on the same work as men. She did not look quite strong. In fact, she was very pale and lean. Then my attention turned to the dry bread and pickle and I slowly consumed it. I thought whole night about what all I had learnt from Ghanshyam that day. I couldn’t even sleep properly as I was waiting for next day to begin because it had in its store a job for me. Ghanshyam was taking me to the factory next morning.

“Get up! Quickly go and take a wash near holy waters on Yamuna else it will get crowded within few minutes”, Ghanshyam warned and woke me up. “Crowded?”, I asked. “Yes, all factory workers, school children, women etc. would come to take bath and wash clothes”, he said. “Oh! It seems similar to what we had in village as water queues near the wells”, I understood.

A close look at the water made me feel that it was not a river but an open drain. The water had a strange odour. I had bath somehow but it took me a lot to convince myself to take a dip in it. What was the use of trying to clean myself in dirty water? But, I had no other alternative.

We went to the factory and the owner agreed to employ me for five rupees an hour. Therefore, my earning largely depended on the number of hours that I could work. 7-8 hours of hard work could fetch me around 35-40 rupees in which it was very difficult to sustain myself. Could this ensure 3 meals a day? What would I send to my family? With great difficulty I made him agree to seven rupees an hour. I had to join the same day.

“What is that big machine used for?” I asked Ghanshyam. “It’s a crane and is used for many purposes. For example, we are using it for throwing the chemical waste in the water. Can you see that charcoal black substance? Those are the chemicals that are left as by products in the factories. Since there are left overs in huge amounts, therefore, cranes are used to dump them. Earlier, more labour was employed to do this job but for last two years since the factory owner has bought a crane, he needs less people for this job”, he answered.

“Technology is kicking at our malnourished and hungry stomachs!” was my immediate reaction. After more introspection and some time spent in silence, I said, “So, this is what makes water smell so bad. Isn’t it?”

“Yes, but it makes work simpler and quicker for the industrialists”, he replied.

By this time, I knew some truths about the city. It was worse than what I had back home. The recent decisions of the Hon’ble Courts of the land were in favour of demolishing slums and using this land for making the city look beautiful for the coming Common Wealth Games. Various thoughts were passing my mind. “Where would I go once the small house in city, even if it is kuccha, is demolished? For how long can one live like a nomad?” But I didn’t have any other option. I had to stay as I had to maintain my family.

I joined work the same day. Months passed by, and my salary thankfully increased from Rs. 5 to Rs. 6. But, there came a gloomy day when the courts ordered relocation of factories and the land given was 40 KM away from the city because, according to them, we were illegal encroachers and the little hub of slums also destroyed the scenic view of the city. We did not want to leave the land but we were pushed outside our small homes and they were destroyed. Our factory owner refused to relocate and decided to close down his work and start with something else. Hundred of us were rendered unemployed. “Where do we go and what do we do?” This question kept haunting us. It had been just one year for me, but for others 5-10 years that they had spent in the city. Our families back home dependent on us for everything.

Everyday we would see men and women in lavish cars, spending their day and night on useless pursuits. They all had abundant money and we were dying for basic amenities. A feeling of anger started building in us with each passing day while we slept on pavements, footpaths and every accessible place. Whatever little savings we had were diminishing. We saw small children dying of malnutrition. Everyone in the city seemed to have turned cold to our plight. They would say, “you shouldn’t have left your homes in village and come here”. I felt like telling them to stay once the way we did.

Ghanshyam and others, coupled with me, failed to secure any other job. It had been over one and a half month. We had drained out our savings completely. Ghanshyam suggested that we should start auto theft or car stereo theft which we could sell in the nearby markets. He knew some places where stolen products are bought. Everyone was bewildered initially. But none had a better option to suggest.

It was a difficult job to do. We decided to move in groups and carry out thefts in clandestine fashion at late hours of the night. These thefts were slowly going on, while the reporting of number of thefts in a day gradually increased in the newspapers.

Once, I and Ghanshyam were caught stealing and the matter was reported to the police. We were taken to the police station and beaten badly. A room behind the bars was the new house in the city awarded to us. The next day, the Hindi daily read, “Stereo theft Gang arrested: City can rest in peace”. Ghanshyam innocently asked me, “Are we such great criminals? We had just taken 1% out of the bounty bestowed on the rich by God”.

I consoled him. It seemed that there was an additional duty imposed on us to be not lured by the wealth of the people in the city. “Did they have any duty towards us?” ”None” They would just look at us as if we were some inconsequential mosquitoes/flies brimming near their food and they would rudely shove us off.

Proceedings had started against us and we were taken to the concerned Magistrate. Everyone looked at us as if we were dreaded criminals. The Magistrate, who seemed to stand in the shoes of those judges who had ordered demolition of our homes across the river valley, started lecturing us, when we pleaded innocent and victims of circumstances. He said, “What is important in criminal law is mens rea and you two had requisite intention to commit theft. Law does not and can not take into consideration the reason for your doing so.” We kept on murmuring, “Sir we can not go back to our villages. There is nothing except barren lands. Our family depends upon us.” The bourgeois class Magistrate could only say, “Theft is not what a law abiding citizen should do. Government does so much for you. There are so many Yojna’s in force. You are giving lame excuses. If you go back to your villages, you can get sufficient food, which the States draw from the Centre. And you get so much there, what is the dire need of moving to the cities and committing crimes. Both of you are guilty of committing theft. You have been charged under the sections correctly. You would be given a legal aid council in the next hearing.”

I could not gather myself. The magistrate, who represented justice, gave us a cold shoulder. I yelled, “Why doesn’t government develop our villages as they develop cities? We won’t need to come here and get locked up in the cells.”

He was blank. Our troubles hardly seemed to bother this resident of the city. We were taken back to the cells. It has been five months now that we are in this small dark cell.