'Hum Gareeb Hai'

A Maruti Suzuki car honked relentlessly. I looked back and gestured as if asking the driver to wait. I turned and and asked the person riding the cycle rickshaw to go ahead. He moved on. I was still mad at the car driver, and told the man riding the rickshaw, “You should show some attitude to these car drivers who don’t care for other people on the road.” He smirked, as if he’s been there and done that. He replied, “Madam, there’s no use trying to confront these car drivers. For them, we are like crap...we ride cycle rickshaws na! We are poor people and rent out these cycle rickshaws. If we say something to these rich people, some won’t hesitate to cause damage to our rickshaws.” I said, “No, they won’t do anything. Forget you’re poor. The road belongs to everyone.” He laughed, “Not everyone thinks like you, madam. There’s no izzat for people like us. We eat and sleep on the roadside pavement.”

He continued, “All day, we ride cycle rickshaws, eat 2-3 samosas, and at night, we sleep near the metro pillars.” I asked, “How much do you earn in a day?”He shrugged his shoulders, saying “Around 200! But, I have to send money home.” Having heard about daily wage labourers, I asked about his village, expecting it to be Bihar. But, I was proved wrong when he said he was from Aligarh, Uttar Pradesh. He continued, “I came here, thinking I will do some work and take care of my family back home. But, the amount I earn is not enough to build a roof over me. So, I decided to stay on the pavement and ensure my family back home sleeps with full stomachs.” I couldn’t help saying, “Men of the house tend to sacrifice so much for the comfort of their family.” He nodded, “Yes! Yes! But, is anyone concerned about us? The only times I get good food is when some good people set up tents and give us rice and pulses.” He continued, “Once, I sent money through a man who stayed in our village. When he reached our place, he had spent half of the money on liquor. I couldn’t do anything about it. I kept quiet because his sister is married to the Sarpanch’s son. He can take revenge against my family.”

I understood his sense of fear and lack of self-confidence. As if he understood what I was thinking, he exclaimed, “I am scared of these rich people. We are poor. For us, it is important to be able to have food every day.” As we were reaching the metro station, he asked, “Why did you ask me so much about my story? Paper mein kaam karte ho kya?” I said, “No, I am just out of college. But, I hope to write on your story.” He giggled, “Then, maybe you could name it as ‘Hum Gareeb Hai’” I got down, paid him and said, “Of course! This is the first time someone has suggested me the heading.” He smiled, got another passenger and went off.