A dusty road cuts through the wasteland along the Yamuna in Kalindi Kunj area of south-east Delhi where vertical structures stand covered in black tarpaulin sheets. At the edge of the slum, Tasleema’s nondescript grocery shop marks the beginning of the area where the ‘Burmadesh’ people live.
Tasleema, who is in her mid-40s, sits chewing on tobacco as she waits for customers. Next to the shop are two men engrossed in a game of Ludo, oblivious to the children who are keenly observing them. All this while a man sleeps on a wooden bench covered in a muddied blanket.
Aftermath of violence
More than 70 Rohingya families, which fled their homes following large-scale communal violence between the Rohingyas (an ethnic Muslim group) and the Rakhine Buddhists in Myanmar, live here. The camp was set up in 2012 and refugees have been pouring in ever since. With fresh violence breaking out in Myanmar, predominantly a Buddhist country, a new batch has arrived — in the middle of the demonetisation and winter setting in.
“Most of the men are at home these days. The women are very upset as they have no work,” says Tasleema, who speaks Hindi with a heavy Bengali accent.
Ever since the demonetisation was announced, the family has been dependent on Tasleema’s income.
Meanwhile, a boy comes up to her asking for sugar while the two men finish their game.
“My first sale has come at 4 p.m.,” she says desolately.
Hardly any identity
The only proof of identity the refugees have is a card provided by the UNHRC, which also looks into their grievances and immediate needs, but cannot give them jobs.
Ilyaas Ahmed, who lives above Tasleema’s shop, drives an e-rickshaw on rent in Govindpuri. His cousin, Ilkaas, who has a family of five, recently came from Rakhine (Myanmar).
Unabated brutality
For now, Ilyaas has no job but more mouths to feed. “We are dependent on charity. There is no food at home. The situation is such that I am ready to work anywhere for a meal,” says Ilyaas, who was a farmer back home in Myanmar.
His cousin told him about the brutality in Myanmar; going back is no longer an option.
Bringing out news reports and pictures shared on social media, Ilyaas says that women and girls as young as five years are raped, men massacred, and villages set ablaze. “This girl was raped,” he says pointing to the photograph of a young girl on his phone. “How can one live with all this?” he asks.
Makeshift arrangements
A small makeshift mosque in the slum has doubled up as a meeting point for most men. “We have only two things to pray for — peace in Myanmar and jobs here,” says Kabir.
Wearing a white shirt over a blue tehmad ( a wraparound for men), Kabir is among the refugees who recently came to the Capital, unaware of the dipping mercury. “We ran away in November when the Buddhists burnt our houses. We got to the district office and were told that we would be taken to Thailand. But we couldn’t enter. We were left at the Thailand border,” he said. “We didn’t know where India was,” Kabir says.
He managed to reach Kolkata, confusing it for Bangladesh. From there, Kabir was guided to Delhi and told that the UNHRC office would help him.
“But, he didn’t tell me that I should get some warm clothes. I sit in the sun all day to keep myself warm, but the nights are difficult,” he says.
