The City of My Birth

The microfinance engagement took me to Ludhiana, the city of my birth or rather the city of my birth as in my passport. The real place being Khanna just 25 km off Ludhiana. First time in 30 years of my life I was working in the region/area/city of my origins. This very feel is ubiquitous and fulfilling as I execute my assignments. But Ludhiana didnt turn out the way I thought it to be. Probably the wealthiest of the wealthy in Punjab live in this city, however, it is extremely filthy, roads and walkways are littered with plastic and slums are prominent. Sound and Noise pollution of the city reminds of New Delhi some 15 years back. While you are on a main road, you feel EVERYONE SHOULD HONK...coz everyone just loves honking.

While doing my rounds of lower middle class households, I found that what my dad said about the migrant labour in Punjab is true. From Ludhiana railway station to everywhere in the city you see non-Punjabi's doing most of the work on shops, offices and in factories. Yet when you go to their house they never recognise the fact they migrated from Bihar/UP in fear they may be asked to leave. An old woman I met has been in the city for as long as "jab Indira Gandhi mara tha hum yahi tha" (when Indira Gandhi was assasinated I was here) so thats over 26 years, still that fear of being asked to go away stays.

Some of my previous posts describe the Vedaas of Ludhiana, where most of these migrants live. Though, I love my work which takes me to such localities often I have always found the thought of walking into those small rooms, agonising. But I had no choice this time around. I had to look over a meeting being conducted by our staff with attendees including 6 women and their kids. So here it was a tiny room with a thin sheet bed, one fan, one tv and probably two bulbs. Few switchboards and lots of raw material for the women of the house to work and create some sort of sweets. Adjacent to this room were two more rooms and another two were in front. Thereby 5 families stayed in that small plot of land. There was no paint on the walls and since the room was poorly ventilated it felt moist. I spent an hour to wait for these women to gather, reminded me of those days when as a banker I would wait for long hours to meet client with portfolios running in millions of dollars. Here I was waiting in my blazer, jeans and sneaker outfit for women from households with incomes of few hundred dollars. Yeah, my dressing has totally tranformed stil the blazer from my banking days sticks on. And sneakers and jeans and blazer, is a combination I never thought I would wear in my life some six months back. But during this half year I think i wore this style several times.

As I moved ahead through the narrow bylanes of this locality,I could see heaps of plastics, overflowing drains and chicken running on the street. Kids played in mud, on bicycles and rickshaws parked there. I wondered to myself, this is my city of birth supposed to be super rich, although I have not found a single passions I should really be proud of here. Not even tasted great food for which Punjab is super famous. Is it god sent that I need to work here now and may be in future to try and help this place move at least a step ahead if not miles ahead. Its too big an ask for me alone.

After another ride in an autorickshaw I reached a familiar Punjabi middle class locality, temples and "langars" (a religious activity during which food is served to general public)studded the streets because of the ongoing Shivaratri celebrations. We at our firm dont mind travelling on the field but try to avoid eating out in an attempt to avoid picking an infection. As luck would have it, we ended up at a house where langar preparations were at the peak. The family was preparing food which was to be served at the nearby temple. If I am not wrong some 15 men-women were actively making puris and bhaji. I was definitely tempted, but declined the offer munch a few. Still I couldnt avoid the old punjabi hospitality "nai ji ek to leni padegi" (we dont take no for an answer, have at least one). Here was plate with the potato dish and puris, had one, had half of another and then had another one. So I had broken the golden rule of not eating on the field. A day before I did even a bigger crime by having both water and tea at a small house in another area.

I am becoming a pakka NGO wala,(a hardened NGO worker) have no doubts, Or I would term it I think there is business at the grassroots. A business which creates both shareholder value and human value. It serves the stakeholders, in which you and others all are party.