Street vendors add to the landscape of urban memories, identity- July 16, 2012
Street vendors, or hawkers as we also call them, are such an integral part of our lives in Indian cities. I just finished reading a book by Musharraf Ali Farooqi, a delicious little novella named ‘Between Clay and Dust’. The story revolves around a pahalwan and a tawaif who share a beautiful platonic relationship that eventually surpasses all others in their lives, even blood ties. Set immediately post Partition, I found it fascinating that Gohar Jan’s source of news about the city was mostly through peddlars of wares and services like the bangle seller, the trinket lady, etc.
I remember the iconic Farooq Sheikh, Deepti Naval starrer ‘Chashme Baddoor’ from my childhood. Naval sold Chamko detergent powder door-to-door. I associated the film with a few visits to Delhi during my childhood when residential areas in South Delhi had a certain quiet buzz about them and vendors of many daily necessities, including fruits and vegetables, peddled their wares from door to door on a rudimentary wooden pushcart (redi). Coming from Mumbai, which had already become a big city where you went to the commodity and it rarely came to you, all this seemed fascinating.
From the two years I spent as an infant, I have very vague memories of the guys who walked through the streets with the bear (bhaloo) and the monkeys (madari with his bandars) to entertain us kids. We discussed this at lunch on Sunday and between mum, Rahul and me, we added more variety to that list- the knife sharpening guy, the utensil repairing guy, in an earlier time there were people who would come and coat brass vessels with aluminum so they could be used for cooking purposes.
It pains me to see this breed disappear. Not just because they imbued a certain flavor to our cities, but because it signals the arrival of a use-and-throw culture in which we have no place for repair re-use. I feel this is criminal. While the world is waking up to the benefits if re-use, we Indians who had a natural talent for this are giving away the advantage by blindly adopting a consumerist culture that exhibits no conscience at all. Also, the trend signifies our paranoia of letting unknown persons enter our homes. With gated living becoming popular, the breed will disappear entirely.
And yet, street vendors continue to thrive in certain situations because of their flexibility in adapting to demand and the meager resources they need. And nowhere is this more evident than in the omnipresence of street food! What would our public places be without the bhuttawala (guy selling corn cobs roasted right in front of you on hot coals), the chaat wala, the aloo bonda wala, the lassi stalls, the chana kulcha and chowmein stalls, the burger wala, the momo-guy (a relatively new addition)..the list is endless! Outside the posh Galleria market in Gurgaon, where the well heeled shop and splurge, the anda bread guy does brisk business. Outside Gurgaon’s call centers, the paratha stalls mint money and provide excellent service even in the middle of the night, with piping hot tea or cold drinks, whichever you prefer! Outside every glass and steel office building, there are clusters of food vendors, selling hot and freshly cooked meals. This is the real India, never mind the people inside the glass boxes pecking on their grilled sandwiches and pasta, or alternatively gingerly opening a home cooked tiffin while yearning for takeaway Chinese!
It alarms me that municipalities like Delhi and Mumbai have taken a hostile stance towards street vendors. There are plenty of ways they can ensure hygiene without taking these people off the streets. A couple of evocative articles by Prof. Sharit Bhowmik from Tata Institute of Social Sciences in Mumbai, tell a compelling tale of the relationship hawkers have to the city’s economy and make a case for nurturing street vending and providing it a conducive ecosystem.
Evictions and cleansing the streets reek of narrow-mindedness, complete apathy for the urban poor who make a living out of as well as subsist on buying from street vendors as well as a lack of sense of place, to which street vendors contribute in an immeasurable but significant manner. To me, it is critical that professionals and citizens alike talk about the kind of urbanism we aspire to. Without this sort of debate, we will continue to lose our identity to idiotic regulations, till we are left with a bland existence and even the memories of a fuller, finer life are erased.
Posted on July 16, 2012, in Urban Planning & Policy and tagged bazaar, convenience, Delhi, flavor, food, Gurgaon, hawkers, markets, migrants, migration, Mumbai, poor, recycle, reuse, salespersons, streetfood, sustainable, vendors. Bookmark the permalink. 11 Comments.
Late afternoons after school in Lucknow were marked by the passing by of several vendors, one of whom–a mungphali wala–was designated my ‘boyfriend’, because come the season, he would wait a tad longer in front of our gate, waiting for me to step out, as I often did. Selective sanitisation of the cities by removing vendors without addressing larger issues is just one more example of how we are systematically killing our identity. Soon, memories are all we will be left with, which too shall perish with us.
But in the spirit of your resolve towards positivity on this blog, let’s vow to have street food one of these days 🙂
As usual an axcilant suggestion 🙂
Street food meal, once a week….. 🙂
Bingo. Boosts immunity as well
Count me in….
We still have the old Newspaper guys coming to buy,but they are slowly getting muscled out by ITC with their Campaign to buy your old papers.The Knife sharpening used to come till sometime ago,I think he has stopped.Chennai has plenty of Roadside stalls, some are fantastic and are sold out in couple of hours.Just near the Taj,there is a famous Saree shop,but the crowd outside is for the guy from Kolkatta,who sells Pani Puri/Chaat which according to Shruti is excellent.
Awesome! I have this idea to document urban identity and these tiny elements that comprise it.
In Panaji, Sheela always buys fish from the lady at the door and of course we are all familiar with the loud and unique horn of the “pavwala’ there.
yes, true. it’s one of the things that really brings the local flavor to that place. what a ghastly place the world would be if everything was same and predictable!
One correction – the coating of brass vessels was with tin (melting point 232 C) and not aluminium (melting point 660 C). Brass, bell metal (from which the uruli is made) and other such material are alloys that have copper – and copper is not a good thing to consume. However, it is what gives the glow!!
For many years, children in many parts of the country suffered from a liver disease that was kind of unique to India (in fact, some regions, communities) and was called Indian childhood cirrhosis (ICC). I remenber as a child, hearing of members of the family who had it. Saw a good number of cases as a student – was termed ‘of unknown etiology’. Then in the 70’s epidemiological studies started to suggest that it had something to do with the cooking vessels and copper was implicated. Many research projects were envisaged (Subhash almost started a study with a US collaborator) – but by the time these studies started the cases were fewer and fewer and finally the disease has kind of disappeared. So, in retrospect, it was probably due to copper!!