BENGALURU: Bikram, 17, and Binay, 4, are on a long journey home, traversing a bumpy 2,500km for four days, into the hilly country of Nepal, set on top of the world. At their age, it must be quite an adventure, travelling with kin and young friends, bonding over card games and travel sickness on their sleeper berths, and video-chatting with their anxious parents in Bengaluru. A never-ending journey punctuated by snack and dhaba breaks, lying in the cocoon of the bus.
For Bikram, it’s back to school after a two-month ‘foreign’ vacation, with a brand-new bag, shoes and clothes. Binay will spend his days on their farm with his grandparents, till he is old enough to go to school. Their parents, Rama and Bipin, toil in the faraway city of Bengaluru, cooking, cleaning and doing odd jobs to earn up to Rs 60,000 a month, shacking up in a one BHK, often with visiting Nepalis on a job hunt.
Ruqiya is on a train that chugged out of Howrah, heading to Bengaluru to take up her duties as a housemaid, and to live in a shanty. She will travel almost 2,000km over 36 hours, crammed in a sleeper coach with others heading for the same destination with a similar goal. She has left the comfort of home and solace of family in one of the border districts of West Bengal, after a three-month holiday. Her children will somehow manage with elders in the family, while she, her husband, and others of their age wear themselves out to send money home.
What prompts people like Rama and Ruqiya to cross mountains, rivers and plains to reach a city thousands of kilometres away, to find work and sustain their families? Is it sheer poverty and unemployment that turns Bengaluru into a holy grail of sorts? For them, Bengaluru is what Dubai was some years ago – a city paved with gold, a cosmopolitan cauldron that holds out hope and welcomes all. As they move into the city teeming with people of all races, religions and colours, they meld into the band of ‘migrant workers’ who are always eager for jobs, and ready to compromise on wages.
Some have lived here for decades, and are even proud owners of Aadhaar cards, no matter which side of the border they come from. The influx began only after Bengaluru’s IT boom, and they started living in small colonies in downmarket neighbourhoods, their only cushion being the community. The one thing that keeps them going is the months-long break for Dasara or Deepavali or Eid, when they board a crowded train or bus, weighed down with gifts for the children, to home, sweet home.