TOURISTS love to take their photographs. You can recognize them from their appearance — sunken cheeks, skinny legs, blood-shot eyes (usually from consuming country liquor called Tari) worn-out, they look much older than their real age; many have tuberculosis. They are a dying breed — the rickshaw-pullers of Kolkata, often referred to as ‘human mules’.
When I visited Kolkata’s infamous Kali Ghat, I found a row of rickshaw-pullers waiting for passengers, and eager to talk!
Sixty-year-old Dharmendar Singh has been pulling rickshaws for over 30 years. In a sorrowful voice, punctuated with sighs, Dharmendar recalled his induction into the rickshaw trade. “I did my intermediate from Hajipur’s R.N. College in 1962. I worked for Tata industries as a clerk. I never dreamt that I would end up like this.” But who can control destiny?
Dharmendar Singh’s life took a drastic turn when his only sister was murdered by her in-laws.
“They were a wicked lot and beat up my sister for the smallest thing. One day they beat her so much that she died. When I heard the news, I suffered a nervous breakdown.”
Medical treatment got Dharmendar back on his feet, but he lost his job and nobody would hire him. “I came to Kolkata looking for work and ended up pulling rickshaws.”
Frail-looking Dharmendar works almost 12 hours a day, pulling rickshaws. He earns Rs200 per day. He lives in a shanty room inhabited by six other rickshaw-pullers. He pays Rs150 as rent. He sends Rs1,000 to his wife who lives in a village in Bihar.
“I have six children and I can proudly say that none of them are rickshaw-pullers. They are all matriculate and employed. Unfortunately, they don’t make enough so I have to continue working, though I’m old and my body hurts a lot.”
Rickshaw-pullers are famous for consuming Tari. Isn’t drinking and driving hazardous? Dharmendar blushed and with a shy smile said, “Tari is a rickshaw puller’s friend. It is the petrol in our engine. Jeyada na pitay hain.” (I don’t drink much). He spends between Rs 50-60 on Tari.
Shanti Devi was standing close by and listening to our conversation. “Talk to me, I’ve something to add to your story,” she said.
Shanti Devi lived in a Bihar village. She was married off at 12. Her husband, a rickshaw-puller brought her to Kolkata. Both have lived on the footpath since. Shanti works as a daily wage labourer. “I’ve to support myself. My husband burns all his income in drinking. Riksay walay ki joru banna asaan nahi (It’s not easy being a rickshaw-puller’s wife).”
Shanti said, pointing to a small bundle, “This contains all my belongings. I leave it with a shopkeeper for safe keeping when I go to work. At night we play hide-and-seek with policemen. Sometimes we get away but often we end up paying a bribe of Rs40-50, so we can sleep on these footpaths.”
Shanti Devi has one son who drives a taxi. But he gives no money to his parents. “He is a cabbie, he makes more money and the more he makes, the more he drinks.”
Gopal Paswan is from Darbhanga, Bihar. He has been a rickshaw-puller for five years. He used to be a field worker but lost his job when the land-owner died. Paswan works very hard earning Rs200-300 per day. He is the sole provider of his family which has 15 members. Paswan looks at least 50 years old but he swore he was only 40. He looked unwell, coughing constantly. “Pulling a rickshaw is very hard on the body. Customers are always in a hurry, you have to run fast. But I’m illiterate and don’t have too many choices.”
Eighty per cent of the rickshaw pullers in Kolkata are from the neighbouring state of Bihar. Why is that?
“Only a Bihari can do such hard work, a Bengali (Kolkata native) cannot handle it,” Dharmendar Singh said proudly, for a minute his weathered face lighting up.
“What has Bihar given us except sorrow and starvation?” Gopal Paswan spoke like a philosopher, “A Bihari is pulling rickshaw in Kolkata because Bangal ki roti hamari kismet mey likhey hai (Bengal’s bread is written in our destiny).”
The rickshaw pullers of Kolkata are a dying, diminishing breed. There are rumours that the Indian government will ban rickshaws. Kolkata’s metro is faster and cheaper. (A rickshaw-puller’s minimum run costs Rs8.
Dharmendar and Gopal were unperturbed. “As long as these old alleys exist and as long as it rains in Kolkata no government can stop us. The streets flood the drainage system of Kolkata is real bad. We’ll be there, as long as we want, not the government,” Gopal said, again sounding more like a philosopher than a rickshaw-puller.
TOURISTS love to take their photographs. You can recognize them from their appearance — sunken cheeks, skinny legs, blood-shot eyes (usually from consuming country liquor called Tari) worn-out, they look much older than their real age; many have tuberculosis. They are a dying breed — the rickshaw-pullers of Kolkata, often referred to as ‘human mules’.
