Pandemic Perspectives: Mr. Nusret, Local Fruit Vendor — Bombay, India
On 24th March, 2020 — Nusret, a local fruit vendor from Bombay, was going about his day normally, talking to his family about returning home near Old Delhi soon and bringing gifts for everyone. Little did he know that his life would’ve taken a dark turn by the sunset as India’s lockdown was announced in PM Modi’s preferred sudden fashion. Nobody was allowed to leave their residences and dwellings till further notice to prevent the spread of the virus. Abruptly so, Nusret found himself in what he called “a roadside prison” as he didn’t have a designated home of his own in this city.
The lockdown aka Janata (people’s) Curfew included banning inter city travel by road, rail and air. An unanticipated announcement for the whole country rolled out at once is bound to have devastating consequences and so it did. Nusret was among 45 million migrant workers to feel trapped. The intention of this unanimous solution i.e. ban was to prevent the virus from spreading. Instead, it instilled in these people, the wish to surrender to the coronavirus rather than living without money, family and mental happiness in this big city. The cost of living here is much higher than that of a small town making it practically impossible to survive without an income.
Adjustment and a makeshift attitude (jugaad) is embedded in the roots of Indian culture. Nusret was forced to use these as weapons for the battle against his circumstances. Being a fruit vendor during this period is a mammoth task especially since every business/independent vendor apart from shops selling essential items are not allowed to function. On regular days before the lockdown, all independent vendors and medium scale traders would buy their produce from the Agricultural Produce Market Committee in Vashi (East Bombay). As a result of the curfew, that has been shut down for now.
This is the temporary process of buying fruits and vegetables during this lockdown as elaborated by Mr. Nusret:
Smaller informal marketplaces have popped up in areas spread out around the city. Independent tempos (small trucks) who drive on contract for larger enterprises (grocery shops selling vegetables and fruits) pick up local vendors from a set pickup point at around 3:30AM. Usually, a fruit cart is managed by two or more people. One person sits ahead with the truck driver claiming he works for the firm and one hides in the storage area behind all the empty crates with a fear to get caught by the policemen standing with lathis (wooden sticks) at checkpoints on the way. If he is sited, the police brutality follows.
On reaching the place, Nusret stands in a line that is miles long. There is no sign of a deadly virus spreading in the city, if one is present there as social distancing and basic sanitation are ruthlessly ignored. The policemen at the site are incompetent to handle the situation and let the events of the morning unfold naturally. Any sign of a quarrel between people gives the police a reason to resort to force. If he is lucky on a day, he will stock up on certain fruits that last longer and start heading back to his area of doing business. “The prices quoted by sellers are exorbitant and if I don’t accept it, the guy behind me or the one behind him will be ready to do so. We earn just about the same as we used to before the lockdown but we can’t spend it on food since all small shops that provided us with cheap lunch and dinner are also shut. There starts another problem.” Nusret grieves.
This whole process lasts for 8–9 hours and on a good day, he starts selling at around 2PM. The problems don’t end here. Nusret endures obstruction and abuses hailed from police cars patrolling the city as they are not allowed to do business. This domino effect of problems needed a ray of sunshine, which then came with the announcement on the functioning of special trains for intercity travel to transport migrant workers back home.
Finally, it felt like the government listened to people’s voices but there were a couple of catches:
- The trains were on from 12th-17th May
- Bookings were only accepted online
You’d think that with Jio’s cheap internet services and affordable smartphones for the masses, people would not find this problematic. However, the website servers kept crashing as millions of people crowded it at the same time. Who will explain this to an uneducated fruit vendor who is working hard to put food on the table for his family?
Amongst these migrants are educated people who own laptops. As a result, they have the edge over Nusret to own a place on that train home. He explained “I went on to the IRCTC website but it kept crashing. After trying to buy tickets for 25–30 minutes, all tickets were sold out.” This ray of sunshine lasted a whole of 30 minutes.
During this lockdown, people seem overtly excited about what they should cook with different vegetables and fruits but how they reach us now is an equally or more important conversation. These vendors are putting their life in danger to help people in residences eat healthy and nutritious food. Their voices need to be heard and pain taken into consideration by the policymakers. For now, the lockdown continues without any news on more special trains past 17th May as uncertainty about a possibility of returning home or everything getting back to normal pile up in Nusret’s mind.
I urge you all to empathise and help the people around you who need it at all times possible. Stay Safe!
