Driving down Major Sushil Aima Marg through Sector 22A towards Rezang La Chowk, it is hard to miss the autorickshaws dotting the road on the left in twos and threes. In fact, there is something unusual about these vehicles that makes their presence felt predominantly. Used for ferrying passengers before COVID-19 days, these autorickshaws have now been converted into makeshift mobile vegetable carts by removing their roofs.
A little enquiry from these drivers-turned-vegetable vendors reveals that this trend has gained momentum in the Millennium City over the past fortnight or so. With metro rail and trains remaining suspended and schools and offices being shut, autorickshaw drivers, mostly migrants from Uttar Pradesh, have been rendered jobless and forced to sell vegetables to make both ends meet.
Rent, EMIs and more
Having left Gurugram for his home in Badaun, U.P., during the lockdown in a private vehicle, Siraj Hussain returned to the city a fortnight ago to start work again, but soon realised that not much had changed, at least for the autorickshaw drivers, despite the ‘unlock’ phase.
“I was working with cab aggregators and made a decent ₹15,000-₹20,000 per month. But on return, I could hardly earn ₹50-₹100 despite the entire day’s hard work,” says Hussain. He then decided to convert his autorickshaw into a mobile cart and sell mangoes. And he is not alone. Abdul, also from Badaun, who is selling mangoes on his auto-turned-cart next to Siraj’s, has a similar story.
He has not paid the instalments for his autorickshaw loan and his room rent since the lockdown. “Earlier, the financier and the landlord did not press for the money, but now they call often asking for the payment with interest. However, there is no work left and the situation is unlikely to improve anytime soon. The newspapers say that curfew could be imposed again in Gurugram,” says Abdul, sounding hopeless. Most of these drivers-turned-vendors make ₹200-₹300 per day, which is not enough for them to even sustain themselves, let alone pay back the outstanding rent and the instalments.
Shakir Raza, another auto driver now selling fruits, joins in saying that most of them didn’t have land holdings back home to earn their livelihood and were forced to come back to the city to make a living.
‘No govt. help’
Raza claims that he, like others, did not receive “even a single rupee” help from the government and the ration supplied at the fair price shops back home was sipho-ned off by the middlemen.
“We got ration only once in two months and that too only wheat and rice. We never got sugar, oil and other essentials,” says Nazib. They all stay on rent, sharing rooms, in the nearby Sat Guru Enclave and Om Vihar. Nazib says that earlier he ate at dhabas, but now he cooks on his own to save a few extra bucks.
Kafiluddin, selling fruits in his auto near Ansal University roundabout on Golf Course Road, says he decided to convert his vehicle into a makeshift cart since buying a vegetable cart would mean an extra burden of ₹6,000-₹7,000. “I removed the upper sheet and cut the iron grills to convert it into a cart for ₹1,500. It might cost me another ₹2,000 to restore it in its previous form,” says Kafiluddin. His relative Masroor Khan sells lemons next to him.
‘Only way out’
Though the transition from a driver to a vegetable vendor has not been smooth for many, it is not the case with Santosh Tripathi. Mostly stationed outside Rail Vihar in Sector 15 Part-II, Santosh had been selling vegetables for almost two decades before he bought an autorickshaw, four years ago, on loan. “When the COVID-19 pandemic hit my work, I decided to go back to my old job of selling vegetables. Many people in the group housing societies in this area know me and are regular customers. I also supply to their homes if they call me,” says Santosh, 45.
“It’s difficult to say how long will we be able to survive like this, but for the time being this seems to be only way out. At least, we are earning enough to not to sleep on an empty stomach,” Siraj says, summing up the conversation.
