The historic old city of Bombay is well remembered for being characterised by many fine things — scenic beaches, wide empty roads, gracious colonial architecture, gentle fisher folk and a laidback charm. Fast forward in time and in direct contrast to the past, the present city of Mumbai is defined by crowds, chaos, speed and a multi-cultural ethos. A few vital threads however, continue to bond the past with the present and one of these is the city's one-of-a-kind and now world-famous, dabbawalla brigade. The men in white who deliver hot home-cooked food to customers all across the city have not only been documented on BBC and made their way into the Guinness Book of Records but are now well entrenched as international celebrities representing the great Indian entrepreneurial management success story. But it was not always so.
Founded in 1890 by a bunch of British colonists who felt the acute need for home-cooked food in the absence of satisfactory eateries, the dabbawalla movement which started with about 100 assorted men has now grown into a full-fledged work force boasting of 5,000 workers. Their intricate method of functioning can stump even the most brilliant of minds and involves fool-proof code making, incredible levels of physical strength and flawless teamwork, attributes which get further honed over the years of practice.
Interestingly, while the dabbawallas go to such great lengths to deliver freshly-prepared food to their customers, their own meals are spartan, comprising merely dry bhakris and pickle and are generally eaten on the run. It is difficult to believe that this complex human chain whose links change formation so rapidly, has no central documentation to speak of and works entirely on manual dexterity and an extraordinary man-to-man co-ordination. “Every Mumbaiker feels a deep sense of pride when he sees the dabbawallas rushing around the city tirelessly. Like the ubiquitous vada-pav and cutting- chai , the never-say-die spirit of this city is amply represented by these men in white,” says Sandra Shelar, a second year student of St. Xavier's College. Like most other railway commuters, Sandra is used to seeing these men balancing the crates of tiffin-boxes on their heads and yelling out to rush-hour crowds at railway stations to disperse and give them way. And knowing that these precious boxes carry comfort food for hard-working people all over the city, Sandra, like every other Mumbaiker, is quick to move out and give them a clear path as they surge towards diverse destinations.
For those who believe in eating only hot wholesome home-made meals, the dabba system provides an invaluable link to good health and emotional bonding with home. “As a resident of a far-flung suburb whose office is situated in town, I get very little time at home. Besides an hour-and-a-half's commute to and fro from home, I work gruelling hours in my advertising agency. For the last seven years, without a single day's bungling, my dabbawalla has been getting me lunch cooked by my mum. The highpoint of my day, it arrives at my office desk bang on time. Unfailingly!” says 32-year-old copy-writer and Virar resident, Mihir Varma happily. Though the romantic touch is fast fading in an age of emails and mobile messages, the dabbawallas fondly recall the days when small notes containing private messages were sent home via the empty lunch-boxes and they ended up doubling as postmen!
Warrior tribe
The dabbawallas , who claim to be descendants of the ancient warrior tribe, the Mawles, carry out their delivery duties keeping the motto “work is worship” firmly fixed in mind. Mythology has it that their ancestors, close associates of the great Maratha warrior-king Shivaji, starved themselves to protect their kinsmen from foreign atrocities. Likewise, as their present day counterparts, the dabbawallas , with no thought to personal safety or comfort make it their mission to reach lunch to their customers in time. “We take an immense amount of pride in providing 100 per cent satisfaction to our customers and are not willing to give even a fraction less in our services,” says Raghunath Medge. Ex-president and leader of the Mumbai Dabbawalla Association, Medge operates from a modest little office situated in Andheri east. “Come rain or sunshine, my boys are bustling around from the early hours of the morning to ensure that our customers get their lunch-boxes in time (12.30 sharp, at noon),” says Medge. “The heavy loads that they carry on their heads, the crowds, the sweltering heat or alternately, the torrential rains of Mumbai have never deterred them. The operation however, is entirely dependant on the railways, Mumbai's lifeline,” he adds. Tackling the entire areas covered by the Central, Western and Harbour railway lines (an area of 60 to 70 km), the dabbawallas presently deliver approximately 2,00,000 tiffin-boxes to people everyday. The time taken for the entire operation is merely three hours and the error rate an incredible one in 16 million transactions; a fact that most satisfied customers will happily vouch for. “The magnitude and complexity of the job, the logistics involved and the efficiency of our supply chain rate among the best in the world. All thanks to my men who work in tandem with mutual understanding, superb co-ordination and speed polished over the years,” informs Medge with quiet pride. However, he is quick to point out that once in a while, the efficiency of the time-tested system is unexpectedly affected by external factors such as flash (railway) strikes, terrorist attacks, bomb blasts in trains, deluges, flooding and other unforeseen circumstances. The bomb blasts in Mumbai's local trains in July 2006, besides disrupting rail services threw up many a question about the personal safety of the dabbawallas. “There are no insurance policies covering mishaps — each man has to look after his own personal interests,” regrets Medge, who like his father before him has dedicated his entire life to the running of this unique business. Though an organised body of leaders comprising hierarchical posts exists at the helm, each worker has stakes and is a share-holder in the business. “Our workers never go on strike as each one of them individually, is a business partner. To be a dabbawalla , one has to contribute only a minimum of capital, in kind — a bicycle, a crate for carrying the lunch-packs and an uniform consisting of a white dhoti- kurta and a Gandhi topi ,” explains Medge.
Life could be extremely tough for the average Mumbai dabbawalla. Discipline and ethics are woven into the prescribed professional conduct and these require strict adherence at all times. Abstaining from alcohol when on duty, the compulsory donning of white caps and the presence of an identity card on one's person are just a few rules among many others that have to be followed diligently. The delivery charge for a customer is a standardised Rs.450, a sum irrespective of distance, weight or space occupied by the packed meal. A dabbawalla rakes in approximately Rs. 7,000 to 8,000 as his monthly income which could be hopelessly inadequate for surviving in an expensive city, in times of inflation. “We are hoping that the government will wake up to the relevance and plight of our tribe and grant us subsidised housing and educational facilities, like it has given the Mathadi Kamgars,” says Raghunath wearily. His father, when the president and leader of the dabbawallas had uttered the same word decades ago, but not much has changed since then. “While it is good to have noble intentions of feeding citizens hot hygienic home-cooked food at an affordable price, we would like our children to inherit a better quality of life. This can only come about through good education which we cannot afford right now,” confesses a dabbawalla's wife on terms of anonymity. The minimum educational requirement for a dabbawalla is the passing of grade eight in school and this results in most of the men giving up studies very early. Consequently, there is not much to fall back on in case of illness or injury and the spouses of the men are often forced to supplement the family income by doing odd jobs. Most dabbawallas too, are known to pitch in as newspaper/ milk delivery men, auto-rickshaw drivers or gardeners in their free time, in an effort to make both ends meet.
Fortunately, the dabbawallas having come into the limelight in recent times, have obtusely, whipped up a high degree of concern for their plight from the citizen bodies. “For decades we were content to do our job diligently and exist on the fringes of obscurity. Suddenly and unexpectedly though, we were propelled into international visibility. Fame came to us after the visit of Prince Charles in November 2003. He was intrigued by our entire way of functioning and spent a good 20 minutes with us trying to grapple with the logistical and networking details. He was awestruck when we told him that we worked without leaning on any kind of advanced technology! A British High Commission official went as far as to remark that no other city anywhere else in the world or even in India, had such an intricate yet smoothly functioning system!” Raghunath and his men gifted Price Charles a memento, a garland, a Gandhi topi and a trophy on his visit to India and in reciprocation of the honor, the dabbawallas were invited to England to attend the royal wedding (Prince Charles with Camilla Parker Bowles) in April 2005. Since then, the lives of these humble men have been chequered with prestigious awards and invitations and among these, the invitation for the opening of the Tiffin Bite Hotel in London and the awarding of a Six Sigma performance rating by Forbes Global Magazine feature as Raghunath's personal favourites.
The coding system employed to ensure that the right tiffin box reaches the right person could appear mind bogglingly complicated but when decoded, comes across as childishly straightforward, Raghunath is at pains to explain. Specific codes and colours are allotted for the places of collection and destinations; these include the railway stations of collection, areas of delivery, building names (e.g. EX: Express Towers), floor numbers etc., that's all there is to it, smiles the veteran dabbawalla. Has the mushrooming of international fast food chains across the city eaten into their business? Ask Raghunath this question and he bristles defensively. “No fancy firangi food can ever replace traditional fare for long. People might stray occasionally but will come right back to their dal-chawal meals! And if it is hot dal-chawal you want, hot dal-chawal is what you'll get — my team ensures that,” he states emphatically. Added to that is the fact that the average Mumbaiker is fast waking up to the health hazards connected with eating hotel/ canteen/ fast foods frequently. Nutritional awareness has also risen to an all-time high veering off Mumbaikers towards traditional foods once more. “More than ever, people are now conscious of the calorie-laden nature of quick-fix foods, the hazards of eating snacks fried in recycled oil, of salads chopped out of unwashed vegetables or worse still, washed in water sourced dubiously. Enter home-food with its timeless appeal and high hygiene levels,” says nutritionist and diet consultant Vasanthi Akella. The phenomenon of both partners working and there being no one to cook and send food from home, however, is fast lending strength to the private caterer who not only cooks customised lunches but also dispatches them to customers. With social mores changing rapidly over the last few decades and more and more women opting for 9 to 5 jobs, Raghunath reluctantly admits to losing out on business with the change of trends.
Going hi-tech
The Mumbai dabbawalla , who has always relied on manual labour is slowly overcoming his innate dread of technology. He has begun to recognise the fact that business has been growing at an excruciatingly slow pace over the years. After much persuasion, he is finally sitting down at a computer and taking tentative baby steps in going hi-tech. Ordering a dabba is now just a click away as an active website (www.mydabbawala.com) or an sms can assure an interested customer of instant service. Customers are being invited to write in with their feedback to encourage two-way communication between the dabbawallas and their customers. The results have been spectacular with an increase of 15-20 customers a day and the men, unlike the earlier days, are finally beginning to take pride in being tech-savvy. There are further ambitious projects in the pipeline and these involve the online selling of merchandise and the collection of donations that will be channelised towards creating a fund for the dabbawallas ' medical and life insurances.
People who take one look at the toiling men and think that a dabbawalla 's lot is “all work and no play” could be highly mistaken. They make for some of the best organisers of Lazim and Dhol music-and-dance performances at the Ganpati and Durga pujas and are known to sing kirtans and bhajans on demand, at social events. Devout worshippers of Lord Shankar, on Shiv Ratri it is a must for every dabbawalla to make the yearly pilgrimage to Bhima Shankar to get the lord's blessings.
The average Mumbai dabbawalla comes across a hard-working content man with very little worldly ambitions. In many vital spheres, he still has a long way to go though, and the word “obsolete” hangs like a dangerous sword over this ancient profession. While the country and the entire world might view the dabbawalla with awe and wonder, he has a tough struggle ahead before he receives the dues that he so amply deserves. The labour of love that started more than a century back has come full circle, physically and metaphorically. For the men in white dedicated to the cause of bonding people with their homes through the medium of food, it is now payback time from the government and Mumbai's citizens.
Meeting deadlines
It is not as confusing as it appears, laugh the dabbawallas when quizzed about how they perform their daily feat. The men start on their collection rounds at around a quarter to nine in the morning which, unfortunately, is also the hour of the city's peak time rush. Dabbawallas are allotted specific areas and each man zooms around on his bicycle with maniacal zeal, collecting the dabbas to be delivered. Red signals, one way routes and other road rules hinder their progress and sometimes, in cases of really bad traffic snarls, they even take to cycling furiously on the footpaths. Being familiar with the territory being covered, the men are not above taking short-cuts through private property or jumping over the compound walls of residential buildings. The dabbawallas are generally viewed with affection and admiration and most Mumbaikers treat these trespasses with leniency and are quick to look the other way. However, in their hurry to meet time deadlines and with railway overhead bridges being choked with crowds, dabbawallas often try and jump tracks and are regularly nabbed and fined by the railway authorities.
The men in charge of collection take the lunch-boxes to a designated place where the congregated dabbawallas quickly sort out the lunch-boxes as per their codes and colours. These are then loaded into the coaches of appropriate local trains. On disembarking at the desired railway stations, the men in turn hand over the lunch-boxes to a local batch of dabbawallas who take charge of the final lap of delivery. A single lunch pack, consequently, ends up changing hands many times in one day! In due course of time, the empty lunch-boxes are rounded up and reached back in a more leisurely fashion. “The first part of our mission, the delivery trip, is fraught with risk and hard labour. We load 35-40 food-boxes in a crate, which is quite a bit of weight to carry on a single head. To add to that, regular passengers often crowd the coaches meant for vendors making it difficult for us to get down at our destinations with the burdens balanced on our heads. Likewise, at the collection points, our men frequently have problems finding space to park their bicycles and these are often stolen or damaged. But, in spite of all the hazards and irritants, we love our job,” states dabbawalla Dhondu Shinde happily.
