Being in a hurry to go to a social event, I took my suit to a roadside clothes presser for ironing. It was a chance that while he was doing it, I got a clue to a story of pathos and determination. Later, I worked on it. It was as follows.
Before circumstances forced him to migrate to Delhi, Akhil was unable to earn to feed even himself in his remote village in Uttar Pradesh. Two tattered blankets, a broken charpoy and a few dented aluminium utensils were all that the family could describe as their assets. A tiny oil-filled bottle with a burning wick lighted the small hut.
When it rained, they had to collect some plastic sheets and the like to spread over the thatched hut roof. For food and other items, they had to depend on the mercy of the village grocer who did not give anything on credit even for a few hours. He insisted on cash payment that the landless labourer’s family could not always do.
As Akhil was growing into an adolescent, his poor parents pestered him to find some work in or around the village to supplement their efforts to ensure two square meals a day. Some-times even one was not possible. Possibilities of employment or self-employment were almost nonexistent in the backward area.
Akhil’s father Nankau worked as a farm labourer. He had to be content with whatever the moneyed landlord’s manager paid him because there was no other option. Nankau had heard that he was entitled to get more under the law but owing to poverty, illiteracy, ignorance and lack of support, he was unable to do anything.
The influence of the landlord and intimidation by his henchmen had crippled many poor families in the village. The administration too was on the side of the mighty. Such were the social and economic conditions in the region.
Nankau, his wife and three kids were striving hard to survive in such adversity. Yet, tradition required him to get his son Akhil married notwithstanding the fact that he was a minor at 16. So, one day, the impoverished family got one more member — Geeta.
With rising prices, life was becoming more complex for the family. Medical facilities that the old couple, in particular, required were almost non-existent in the area.
Akhil decided to move to the shehar (city) to try his luck there. Having heard about better prospects in Delhi, Mumbai and Kolkata, Akhil opted for ‘Dilli’ due to its proximity to Uttar Pradesh. He went alone and chose to take up car washing because it did not require any investment.
The ever increasing number of cars in Delhi assured a regular income. Almost every day, I saw from the window Akhil studiously doing the job in the freezing morning cold of December and January and in the scorching heat of the summers.
Friendly temperament
A few months later, the youth put up an ironing table and brought his wife to Delhi. He would wash the cars in the morning and do the ironing job the whole day assisted by Geeta, his wife. I noticed that his friendly temperament and fair dealing earned him more clients than others of the tribe.
Today, Akhil and Geeta are leading a life they could not have ever imagined in their village. In Delhi, they bought a refrigerator, a ceiling fan, two fairly good chairs and a colour TV as the first essentials. Akhil regularly sends money to his parents either through some trusted person or delivers it personally.
Their modest dwelling in the village wears a different look. Though the village grocer envies them, he now gladly offers to give provisions on credit. But Nankau politely tells the grocer that he would rather pay in cash.
But what struck me most was seeing Akhil taking a thick wad of currency notes in big denominations out of his pocket to make some payment or payments. He is now out of the woods. It is heartwarming to see him retaining his familiar smile and polite tone.
If luck smiled on him, it was because of his determination and hard work that he has been doing religiously from early morning till late evening, 24 x 7.
Lalit Raizada is a journalist based in India.
