Kiran Jonnalagadda’s Blog

Two posts by Zainab Bawa on the lives of hawkers in South Bombay: at Nariman Point and at Victoria Terminus.

Sitting by Nariman Point, Shah Rukh, the little tea and coffee selling boy comes over to me. I have been wanting to talk to him for a long time now, trying to convince him to tell me about himself. He is a clever boy. He knows that he can sell me tea and coffee and along with it the promise that some day he will talk. He says, “Today, today we will talk.” He promises me that after one more round of sale, he will come and talk to me. I wait, like I always do!

A while later, I notice that Shah Rukh is being dragged by the BMC men. Two of them are holding him by the collar. One of them has taken control of his only asset – his thermos and some of the maal inside. He is pleading them to leave him. They are firm. ‘No doing business here,’ they tell him. They treat him like a kid. He goes on pleading. I follow the men. Finally, one of them puts Shah Rukh’s thermos into the grey surveillance van and locks the door from the outside. Shah Rukh is telling them to let him go this time. But they are not interested in his pleas.

Zainab’s words evoke an empathy I am unable to articulate. I hope someday to be able to take pictures worthy of accompanying words as these. I haven’t had a single good shot since the one of the boys staring at the posters two weeks ago.

I watched Mira Nair’s Salaam Bombay last week and it had the same effect as Zainab’s words. The movie was made in 1988. Sixteen years ago. I couldn’t help wondering what happened to the cast in the years since. What have they done with their lives? IMDB reports that the boy in the leading role now repairs auto-rickshaws in Bangalore. How did they trace that? What about the rest?