Lakshmi Raj could not attend his father’s funeral. Resting under the shade of a roadside tree, hunched over his cycle, his only valuable possession right now, Lakshmi recalls the ordeal he and his relative Basant Kumar have been facing for the last 10 days. The scorching heat of May has taken a toll on the duo. But the beads of sweat all over his face can barely hide the anguish in Lakshmi’s eyes.
“Lakshmi lost his father 10 days ago,” says Basant. “He could not even attend the funeral. His mother is all alone in Orissa now, waiting for Lakshmi to return home.” The duo was working in small grocery shops in Chennai. “I managed to save a little money, but Lakshmi had nothing with him. We used all the money to buy two cycles, for `12,000,” says Basant.
The duo cycled from Ambattur, where they were staying, towards the Andhra border. Basant thought they would cycle down all the way to Orissa from Chennai — about 1,200 km. They did not know of the obstacles they would have to face. Every day, for the last three days, the duo cycle down to the border only to be sent back by the police.
“Yesterday, they asked us to visit a local office. But there we were shooed away. We have filled out application forms to board the Shramik trains, but we have not got any notification yet,” says Basant. With all the money being ‘invested’ in their cycles, the duo are now struggling for food. “Our last proper meal was two days back,” says Basant, with a tragic smile.
“One of the officers told us that our government does not want us to come back home and hence, they are not making any arrangements. I am devastated. There is none we can bank on.” Lakshmi, who was quiet till then, managed to speak up: “I already lost my father. I do not want to lose my mother, too.” The duo walk away to wash their faces at the roadside tap. We bid adieu and proceed further. About 10 km away, another group of 15 is taking shelter at a roadside hotel. Some local leaders had arranged food for them. “We are all from Uttar Pradesh,” says Rashid, one of the members of the group.
“We were all working here as AC mechanics, in Chennai. We have not received payments for the last two months. We have lost all hope, and decided to walk to Uttar Pradesh.” His friend Hamid joins in: “Our Eid will be on the roads this time.” For Muslims who are fasting now for the month of Ramzan, the ordeal is further difficult. We continue our journey. A few kilometres away, a group of five workers are on the way to Muzzafarpur in Bihar. Their bicycle journey took a hit after one of their group member, Ahmad, had a flat tyre.
The group had already covered over 500 km, from Coimbatore to Chennai. How did they get here despite the checking? “A kind-hearted cop helped us with the route,” chirps Ahmad. “So we could evade checking.” The group has been practical about the trip. “We take a break after every 10 km. Some local leaders helped us with food. They even provided an accommodation in a village, but the locals protested against allowing us. So we had to leave.” Ahmad says the biggest problem was having to travel all the distance without knowing the local language.
That’s what happened to Birju, too. He did not know the local language. As a result, the labourer, who wanted to get home to Odisha from Bengaluru, ended up in Chennai. “I have been travelling without food and water for days. I took all the hardships assuming I was getting closer to home with every step. Only now I realise that I have come farther away, in the opposite direction!” The current ‘viral era’ has been chipping away at our humanity. A girl cycling thousands of kilometres to get home, carrying her father along, gets no immediate help. Instead, she is offered an opportunity to participate in a cycle race. It remains to be seen what Lakshmi and Briju will get -- help to go home or a future prospect if they survive in their mission.
IN AGONY
This group of 15 from Uttar Pradesh is taking shelter at a roadside hotel on NH-16. Some local leaders had arranged food for them
Eid on the roads
“Our Eid will be on the roads this time,” says Hamid, part of this group of migrants from UP