As millions in our cities locked themselves in, life for those who built our homes, our roads, or did our dirty chores has moved outdoors. You can바카라t see them from your balconies or through windows바카라the curtains are drawn anyway to block the harsh May sun. They too stay away from the day바카라s heat. It is at night the Gates of Hell open. Group upon group of terrified, starving, exhausted people leave the cities they built, carrying with them precious items packed into sacks. Cellphones to reach out to relatives at home in villages they were born, hundreds of miles away. Some clothes, biscuit packets, bread. They flee on foot, bicycles, hitch a ride on goods-laden trucks바카라And much before the break of dawn, with stars filling the sky, they stop바카라hungry, thirsty and tired바카라to rest under the shade of a tree or a school converted into a shelter for migrants. 바카라Stick around. It바카라s nice to have you here,바카라 a man implores, unwrapping a gauge of rag to reveal a blistered foot, in one such home for the homeless in Nashik. 바카라The first few days, I didn바카라t leave my house out of fear. Then the food and money ran out. I felt impotent when I went out looking for handouts. It created a moral conflict. I have never begged. I think this is the result of bad karma.바카라 He pulls out a ball of soiled newspaper from his bag. Soaked chickpeas, his dinner. He puts some in his mouth. He used to come home knackered every night from back-breaking work at construction sites or in clattering factories바카라someone paid at the end of a day바카라s labour had little choice about his job site. These have gone silent in the nationwide stay-home order to stop a contagion from spreading. A modest, self-effacing man, he could not have cared less. But the strict restrictions imposed on the population have stifled life. Soon, with no money to buy food or pay the rent, he joined the thousands of migrant workers filing out of the cities. He has heard that the government and 바카라some rich people바카라 were giving money to the poor. Also, special trains were ferrying people home. He thought of waiting his turn for a train. 바카라But the drawbacks clearly outweigh the benefits,바카라 he says. As the night unfolded, time pressed on him. 바카라We바카라re alive for a reason,바카라 he philosophises. 바카라Yeh rasta khatam nahin hota, Sir.바카라 Clinging to thinning hopes, and working himself into a trance, he hobbles out of the room and into a landscape that defies easy explanation, an expanse of road filled with meaning.
All along I was trailing them on a bike, shooting from a distance, afraid that any one of them could be a coronavirus carrier. Yet, I desperately wanted to capture their plight, tell their story. We are all hypocrites but the difference is what level you want to be.
Photo-essay by Apoorva Salkade
