The invisible helping hands - hree such people — indispensable, but invisible

The invisible helping hands

We interact with them every day, but don’t acknowledge their presence. We look at them, but don’t actually see them. Labourers, security guards, parking attendants, delivery boys, garbage collectors and housekeeping staff make our lives easier by working long, hard hours for meagre wages. On Labour Day, DNA profiles three such people — indispensable, but invisible

Bablu Yadav, 28 Delivery boy Bablu Yadav is a small man with a soft voice. A delivery boy for a popular Lower Parel restaurant, Yadav works 10 hours a day, pushing his rusty cycle on traffic-choked roads to deliver food parcels to impatient customers. Customers generally don’t speak to him, unless he’s late. Then he gets shouted at. Yadav, 28, had come to Mumbai eight years ago as there were no jobs in Deoria, his home district near Ooty. He spent the last eight years climbing up the restaurant business ladder - from dishwasher to waiter to delivery boy. But he dreams of setting up his own food stall. Every month Yadav sets aside more than half of his Rs6,500 salary for his dream. “May be within six years, I will have enough money to start something,” he says. “I keep only Rs500 for every day expenses and send the rest home to my parents and four brothers in Deoria.” Yadav lives in a room bang opposite High Street Phoenix Mall in Lower Parel. It gets to him sometimes, the dissonance of his own need and the glitzy excess of luxury sedans and designer shoes outside his window. “Sometimes I feel it is unfair,” he says. In spite of his struggle, Yadav maintains a positive outlook. He likes Mumbai. It has not given him a lot of money yet, but it has given him hope. But is there anything that he doesn’t like about the city? “I don’t like the poverty here. There are too many people living on the streets. When I first came to Mumbai I had no place to stay. So I spent 15 days sleeping on the streets. I know what it’s like.” His parents are looking for a girl so, would he go back to his village to settle down? “No. I prefer living here. May be I will get my wife here or she’ll stay back and look after the children and I will take gifts for them when I visit,” he says. Tapas Sahoo, 23 Parking attendant It’s difficult to imagine Tapas Kumar Sahoo, 23, without a smile. The only time he doesn’t smile when asked to pose for a photograph as he gets self-conscious. Sahoo works as a parking attendant for 12 hours a day and aspires to become a driver. He makes Rs3,000 a month and sends two-thirds of his salary to his parents in Baleshwar, Orissa. But he is happy. “I have so many friends here. I talk to the owners of the cars I park, no matter their status. They are all very nice to me.” Sahoo lives with his younger brother, who also parks cars. On their weekly offs, the brothers watch movies on television and play cricket with friends. There is, however, a deep and abiding loneliness. Three years ago, he had migrated to Mumbai leaving behind the drudgery of his family’s betel-leaf farm in Baleshwar. But the idea of returning home constantly haunts him. “I miss my family. I miss all the people I grew up with in my village. Even though the streets are filled with people here I do get lonely sometimes.” Does he want to start his own family in Mumbai? “Not until my sister gets married. And she is just 11 so, that’s a long way off.” Loneliness is not enough to put a dampener on his dreams. “Someday I will own my own place in Mumbai. My cousin and her husband already have a house in Khar. If I get a good job, driving cars, I think it will be possible,” he says. But then his responsibilities as the eldest child deflate his enthusiasm. “But if my father gets ill, I will have to go back and look after the farm. But I think I still have a good six years here to make something of myself. After that, we’ll see.” Pradeep Sahni, 36 Security supervisor In 1999, Pradeep Sahni had move from Ratnagiri to Mumbai and landed a job as a security guard in a Mahalaxmi residential society. It wasn’t typically boring, says Sahni. “You would think that in such a job, you wouldn’t have much to do, but you would be wrong. The flow of cars coming and leaving was relentless. There was always something to see, something to note.” Sahni, 36, is now employed as a security supervisor at a construction site in Parel. His responsibilities include overseeing the depositing of material at the site, maintaining a log, issuing gate passes and ensuring that his subordinate, the guard, fulfils his duties well. “You will be surprised by the amount of activity here,” says Sahni, who wanted to join the army. Not one to indulge in nostalgia or regret, he believes that in Mumbai, you can always do something to survive. You just need to make the effort. Sahni himself makes for a good example. He works 12 hours a day, seven days a week. With security firms hiring guards and supervisors on a contractual basis, Sahni says he has the freedom to take up a better offer or find better work. “We are lucky to have work available all through the year.” Sahni lives with his wife and two-year-old daughter near Elphinstone Road, a 10-minute walk from his workplace. And, for them he would like to change one thing about his job. “I would like to get a weekly off.” When asked if there was any justification for his counterparts’ complaints that they do not get paid on time, Sahni says: “You can have problems at some firms, but usually you get your salary on a fixed date.” Struggle, says Sahni, is something that he has seen in phases. For now, he is content sitting in his makeshift tin enclosure, looking at trucks drive up and down the road. “Trust me, there are days when 12 hours feel like just one or two.”