This line is from the caption of the Instagram photo posted by senior journalist Faye D’Souza.
Let’s take a moment to read it again and look at this picture. While one would tout this as ‘just the mundane rush’ on any other day at any other time, in times when a virus that has claimed more than 34,000 lives and that can only be contained with ‘social/physical distancing’, is doing rounds, this image transforms into the beacon of the deep-seated class divide and inequality that has never been as palpable as it is now seeming to be.
The New York Times reports, “In one of the biggest migrations in India’s modern history, hundreds of thousands of migrant labourers have begun long journeys on foot to get home, having been rendered homeless and jobless by the nationwide lockdown to contain the spread of the coronavirus.” At 8 pm on March 24, the Prime Minister announced the imposition of a 21-day lockdown beginning at midnight. As it could be assumed, a lot of frantic members from the middle-class started stocking up on foodstuffs. In fact, personally speaking, I, a member of the Indian upper-middle class who had the privilege of knowing that supermarkets in Italy and the US had run out of food stock, had a stock of essential grains, packaged milk, and a big box full non-perishable noodle-boxes and biscuits, even some daily probiotic beverage ready to put me through a similar situation a little less than two weeks before the lockdown was announced. I had also asked the lady who cooks for us to do the same. However, there was a huge chunk of the society that wasn’t ready then and that isn’t ready even as we speak because they didn’t have the means to stock then and they don’t even have it now. So, while this meant a mild shock for the upper and middle classes who are used to having just enough stock of everything to last them a month, or at least enough means to re-stock, those who never had anything at all were left with no option at all.
Cityscapes in India are dotted with migrants. Delhi, in fact, happens to be lovingly called ‘the city of migrants’. Migrants who leave their lands, their villages, their families behind to come and work in bigger metropolitans. As per the 2011 Census, the total number of internal migrants in the country is 139 million (it was then). While Uttar Pradesh and Bihar are the biggest source stats, the major destinations happen to be Delhi, Mumbai (and Maharashtra), Tamil Nadu, and Gujarat amongst others. As can be expected, the majority of these workers does not have a stable source of income and food and most even lack a proper roof, most sleeping wherever they work. Now, with the Coronavirus scare, all of the activities have come to a halt leaving these workers without any money or means of survival. Finding no other way, these migrants decided to go home only to find all inter-states borders sealed and no means of transport at all. Last Tuesday, a desperate migrant labourer broke down on national television as he spoke about being stranded in Delhi with no money, food or shelter, and no means to go back home. He had been trying to get home for the past three days at that point but was left with no hope after interstate bus services were shut down by the government.
A similar section that was trapped out of their homes was the diaspora. The diaspora, and other people with a privilege list almost as tall as mine, who were either studying abroad or were travelling, were sent heavy aircraft to come back and once they were back were screened and treated carefully.
The Wire reports, “The Central and state governments also had not devised any arrangement for those who survive on daily wages. This led daily wage earners to take to the roads and walk hundreds of kilometres to reach the safety of their homes in different states.” What has unfurled since then has rightly been conflated with a migration drive as ruthless as the Partition of 1947 itself. The Wire further chronicles, “At least 17 migrant labourers and their family members – including five children – have lost their lives so far in the course of their desperate efforts to return home.” Having walked 200 km without food or water, a 39-year-old man who used to work as a delivery person died. The total number of lockdown-related deaths stands at 22. On being asked why were they still walking, one of them could say nothing but ask if they should be eating dust and stones instead.
In a more disappointing turn of events, there has been news of the police spraying disinfectants made of chlorine and water on labourers returning from the city. As they kept crying because it burnt their eyes, all they were asked to do was sit down and shut theirs and their children’s eyes. Another piece of news doing rounds talks about how a police officer ‘punished’ people for leaving the lockdown in a very village-classroom style. Another police officer in Uttar Pradesh forced people who had heavy bags strapped to their backs hop like frogs for simply being seen on the road during the lockdown.
What all of this goes on to depict is how big the chasm between the rich and the poor in our society is.
Several parallel platforms are talking about how dehumanising the spraying incident is, but if one goes deeper, they will realise that we, as a society, have not just allotted our permission to these classist measures, but have also applauded their execution. It’s never just a silent nod. We have, through our policies, our activities, through differential treatment and the sheer lack of bother have brought things to a point where a poor person’s death is not a matter at all. It’s only when the numbers soar that we let out a sigh, only to immediately replace it with a casual shrug of shoulders. We find bravery in women being able to balance their lives’ belongings on their heads and humour in men hopping like frogs. As the privileged sections observe ‘social distancing’ by ‘quarantining’ themselves—concepts that suddenly seem to crumble when it comes to the poor—the poor travel in herds on each others’ shoulders and heads. It’s also important to remember that social distancing is anyway a privileged concept and seems to stop holding true for those who live in the tiniest of houses with big families even when they follow directions.
As states are expressing reluctance in accepting these ‘carriers’ of the dreaded disease, one wonders if there will ever be justice for the most vulnerable. In all of humankind’s history, it’s the poor who have travelled barefoot. It’s them who have been found unworthy of respect, unworthy of their lives. It’s them who are burnt, raped, and tarnished every time a crisis churns up.
And so, if not now then, when? At this point, more than anything, while on the one hand, it is important to be grateful for everything we have, on the other, it is pertinent that we recognise the chasm and do the best we can do to make sure that the section that has thus far been ignored is able to survive this crisis. Every time we see brutality, we, with the power of voice, need to speak up. We need to make sure that no one around us starves. We, with the power of electronic money, need to make sure that samaritans and local authorities who are working towards ensuring that no more people have to die to reach their homes get enough monetary support. If it’s true that in all of humankind’s history, the poor have suffered, it’s also true that never before in all of humankind’s history, have we found the opportunity to come together as one and have the means and capacity to look for everyone.
“Deep in my heart, I do believe that we shall overcome someday.”
(All views expressed are personal.)
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