Slaves of the Big Cities: A River and a Woman Named Yamuna

Exposing the unwritten constitution that governs India’s poor

When I opened my eyes, I beheld mountains, forests, rivers, and the blue sky. I watched the Ganga, Yamuna, Satluj, and Ravi race from the mountains to the plains. Amid nature’s quiet, I have stood at the threshold of childhood, youth, and now old age. Clouds rise from the sea, bring snow and rain to the mountains, and then the water journeys back to meet the ocean again.

A mountain’s beauty lies in this: the landscape changes with every turn. The plains, by contrast, are straight and flat. The mountains are the nation’s sentinels; the plains, its breadbasket. Two generations ago, we too were tied to the plains. With the turn of time, by the mid-last century, we too moved into nature’s lap.

Recently, I had the chance to visit the “City Beautiful,” Chandigarh. It feels as if time has changed faster in the plains than in the hills. The mobile phone has taken everyone captive. Coming, going, eating, staying – everything happens through the phone. Even for cleaning and laundry, you spin your mobile and a servant appears. Upon women’s shoulders rests not just the home, but the burden of pulling life’s cart forward.

Seeing Yamuna story, it feels that India’s poor and middle class have become economic slaves to capitalists. In the absence of jobs, a person is reduced to mere servitude. Whatever the law books may say, like the British constitution, India’s capitalists too have their own unwritten constitution.

For decades, no government has turned its attention to this system. “Come at eight in the morning, leave at eight at night. Open your mouth, and you lose your job.”

In the unorganized sector, Nari Shakti stands on her own feet and makes a vital contribution to the nation’s economy. Those who speak from stages, grand temples of democracy, social media, and silver screens have paid little attention to this. A recent article noted that their contribution to the country’s GDP is 7.5 percent – nearly 22.7 lakh crore rupees.

In big cities, from cleaning to walking dogs, the work is mostly done by women. We too had rented a house for a month. On the first morning at 7 am there was a knock at the door revealed Dadi Yamuna – hands folded, broom in hand.I opened it to find a woman, the age of a grandmother, standing with folded hands. “Dadi Amma, how can I help you?” “Son, I’ve come to sweep and mop.” I was stunned. I asked her to sit and inquired about her life – working at this age? “What can I say, son? I have a son and daughter-in-law. They live separately. I live alone in a rented room. I clean houses to pay rent and to eat.” “Dadi, what is your name?” “Yamuna.” “Home?” “Uttar Pradesh.” “When did you come?” “It’s been fifty years in this city.” “Dadi, sit. We’ll do the cleaning.” “No, son. I’ll lose my job. How will I eat?” We just kept staring at each other. Dadi Yamuna is not a single case, our cities and small towns are flooded with such numerous stories of India’s poor.

The Yamuna that flows from the mountains and Dadi Yamuna – their conditions seem the same. Broom in hand, she set to her work. 50 years in the city and still cleaning to eat. Her story mirrors the river she’s named after: both flow from the mountains only to be bent to the will of the plains.

A thought arose in my mind: When will those who speak of ‘Mann Ki Baat’ spare a thought for this class of people?