Sometimes it's amazing how many people we look at but never see. It's very easy to walk past the silent sufferers spread across the pavements of Kathmandu. However, it's not because they don't want to reach out. More often than not, it's because the majority of us have stopped caring.
If we were to listen to them or just take a minute to sit back and observe, we will find that each of these people have a unique story to tell.
The number game
Sukumaya Tamang Magar
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"It's actually not bad. On a good day I have up to 200 people come up to this thing," says Sukumaya proudly pointing at her weighing machine. Turns out she doesn't know exactly what it is called and when people come to weigh themselves, she can't tell them how much they weight because she doesn't know how to read the numbers. She asks the customers to do so themselves.
At 71, the uneducated grandmother feels a lot more neglected than ever before. Her children abandoned her and her husband three years ago. This left them with no financial support. But the pair chose to rise from the despair and make a living. So with Rs 5000, the two bought themselves a weighing machine each. Now every single day by six in the morning, they take their respective positions. Her husband sits by the Ratnapark area whereas Sukumaya usually waits for her customers on the pavement right across Bishal Bazaar. She charges five rupees per customer and this has been her routine for the last three years.
Sukumaya cuts a very lonely figure on the busy New Road footpath. While everybody else purposefully walks towards their destinations, she sits there on a jute bag. Most of the times it looks like she is lost in her own thoughts, but whenever somebody bothers to interact with her she smiles her big toothy smile. Life's undoubtedly hard but Sukumaya is grateful for her weighing machine. It's the only support system she and her husband have.
To the tunes of serenity
Mohammad Yunis Shah
It was Mohammad's choice. When he was just 20 years old, he decided to come to Nepal. He thought the conditions to begin a business were very favorable here and compared to his town near the border in India, the weather was unbelievably pleasant. So just like that, it was decided. He collected a bunch of flutes from a supplier and began doing business in the narrow alleys of Kathmandu.
Fast forward 20 years and at 40, Mohammad has found a permanent station at Indrachowk. He is already at his spot by eight in the morning. While he waits for customers, he passes his time playing a tune or two, though he confesses he isn't a flute maestro.
"I play but only a little. A flute player should be better than me," says Mohammad. However, he has taught himself the different scales and types of flutes. He enjoys it when he can give recommendations and pick the right type of flute to serve the purpose of a customer.
The steady decline of the instrument's popularity has not gone amiss though. Over the years, Mohammad agrees, that the number of customers have decreased. Nevertheless he still manages to make a 5-10% profit. His business tends to boom especially during the jatra season.
There is an air of contentment around Mohammad. He talks about how lack of savings is stopping him from starting a proper business. And he also has to make a long journey every month or so to see his family which puts a temporary stop to the cash inflow. But throughout it all, he also maintains his smile and polite demeanor. This is a man who has made peace with his identity as a street vendor.
Seasonal fruits of labor
Raju Nepal
Raju has strong opinions about politics, family responsibilities, worker's rights and then some more. His scowl never seems to leave his forehead. Every now and then he frantically waves a newspaper in attempts to keep the flies off his precious kaffal. The 40 year old is reluctant to talk about the future or other possibilities. As far as he is concerned, there will be no change. He has been selling kaffal for 11 odd years now and he is certain that it's going to be the case in the next decade as well.
Raju Nepal is the sole bread winner in his family. He has three daughters and one son. It's usually the pages of their old text books that he uses to wrap the berries. Sometimes, he confesses, to accidentally tearing up their current in-use copies as well.
"It's obviously stressful. The budget is ridiculously tight. We are barely managing to make ends meet but it's not like I have any other options. I can't get other jobs. I have tried and now I'm tired of trying. So this is it," says Raju.
So every morning at around four, he travels to Nardevi and gets his batch of fresh produce for the day. The fruits change according to the season but his job description doesn't. If the rain doesn't get in the way or if the police don't come to disrupt the sale, Raju usually finishes the stock of fruit he brings with him each day and with that earns a little money to get by for a day or two.
No testimony without test
Laxmi Shrestha
These days there is one thing that is helping Laxmi through the blistering heat and pouring rain on the footpaths of Ratnapark, her youngest daughter's SLC. "That's all done," says the 38 year old vendor with a sigh of relief. For almost 10 years now, Laxmi has been supporting her family selling cigarettes, tobacco and chewing gum off a naglo.
"We somehow make do. Hiding, running, and shouting on the streets," says Laxmi. Shockingly she only makes an average of Rs 200 per day. If it wasn't for her daughter's fruit stall, she admits life would have been unbearably tough. But it's not like she hasn't tried other alternatives. She still harbors dreams of owning a retail shop, albeit a small one to start with, somewhere in the corners of the city, if not the heart of it. Unfortunately luck hasn't been on her side. She cites many logistic problems.
And life has been rather unfair to Laxmi. Her mother passed away when she was just a kid. The little hope Laxmi had of being able to go to school and study also ended with her mother's demise. Then she got married and soon thereafter her husband also passed away leaving her with four daughters. She is frustrated by the hand she has been dealt but at the same time, she is also well aware that she must carry on for the sake of her daughters.
