Those Magnificent One-Man Machines of Matunga
May 1 2008 | Views 476 |
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Tags: tribut labour force matunga may day salesmen one-man marts
Tags: tribut labour force matunga may day salesmen one-man marts
Inspired by dear suleka-ite friend sivaram-ji's fitting tribute to the 'Labour' force of India titled 'Bhaiyya tujhe Salaam' at link http://sivaram56.sulekha.com/blog/post/2008/04/bhaiya-tujhe-salaam.htm, as a supplement to his wonderful blog, I too recollected those one-man door-to-door service providers during the 60s and 70s in the Mumbai suburb of Matunga, where I had grown up watching them with wonder.
Those Magnificent One-Man Machines of Matunga
Hats off to the breed of ‘one-man mobile marts' that we see daily on streets of India, but whose efforts we generally tend to overlook, and don’t spare them for their little slips (especially fastidious house-wives!). I look back at my childhood spent at Matunga, which was buzzing with a wide variety of such innovative door-to-door ‘service providers’ throughout the day.
Those Magnificent One-Man Machines of Matunga
Hats off to the breed of ‘one-man mobile marts' that we see daily on streets of India, but whose efforts we generally tend to overlook, and don’t spare them for their little slips (especially fastidious house-wives!). I look back at my childhood spent at Matunga, which was buzzing with a wide variety of such innovative door-to-door ‘service providers’ throughout the day.
Firstly the ‘Dabbawallah’ whose zero-error network is a subject of great awe and admiration world-wide and an acknowledged Six-Sigma model for managers! How they managed to precisely deliver the right ‘dabba’ to the right person without losing track in the maze of mumbai’s complex geography and its railway connections, is a mystery. The secret perhaps lies in the intriguing colour codes painted on the dabba tops that represented the exact source and destination addresses!
Then we had the ‘family vadhyar’ (priest) who unfailingly will visit the house 2 or 3 days in advance to remind about the annual ritual days and other religious occasions, armed with a cloth-bag and a diary in which he would have noted such dates ranging from ‘ayush-homams’ to ‘punya-thithis’ of umpteen families. On the specified day, he would arrive fresh early in the morning, briskly go about his business of homam, japam etc and move on to another house or another ‘muhurtham’ after a quick coffee break.
Apart from the ubiquitous post-man, occasionally we had the much-dreaded ‘telegram-man’ who would ring the bell at unearthly hours with an alarming shout to accompany, ‘TELEGRAM!!’. But sometimes as you open the door collecting your bundle of nerves wondering which out-station relative’s turn had come to go, he would announce in a pacifying voice ‘Company-se hai’ meaning the much-awaited interview call has come at last! It beats me why on earth companies in Bombay used to send interview calls to candidates within the city by telegrams! The rest of the night would pass sleep-lessly because of the interview-anxiety!
And then we had this innovative ‘Idli’ vendor who would make his round precisely at a fixed time in the evening with a big Aluminum vessel full of fluffy idlis tied at the back of his bicycle and two cylindrical ones on the front for sambar and chutney, and one dabba for ‘molagappodi’(gun-powder?)and a small can of til-oil to boot! He would honk his horn and within no time would have the entire Gujarati neighbourhood making a bee-line towards his bicycle! Just observing him in action, itself used to be a great lesson in time and space management!
We had several such ‘specialized’ vendors like knife-sharpeners, ‘bhaandiwala’ (house-wives' favourite vendor!) who trades stainless steel vessels for old clothes, ‘old- paper-wala’, ‘bhangaarwala’ who does a great service by scavenging the attic in the house ridding off old junk, bottles, rusted metal-ware and assorted ‘kachra’s which you neither wanted to use nor wanted to throw away! The sense of relief one feels after thy clear up a whole lot of space for us, the lazy-bones of the house, cannot be described in words.
Then we had our ‘dhobi’, an aged frail figure visiting our house every Sunday sharp at 4 pm delivering freshly laundered clothes that were collected the previous Sunday and collecting the freshly-soiled ones. Occasionally you may find a stranger’s blue shirt instead of your favorite grey one, but such mix-ups were very rare in terms of the volume of clothes he was handling in the whole locality single-handedly with only his hand-cart to share his burden.
I also remember those shoe-makers, cobblers, the friendly 'mochis' as they were called in the neighbour-hood who with their wonderful skills used to mend those impossibly torn chappals or shoes for a pittance, so that you can postpone spending your valuable 99 Rs or 199 Rs on that new 'Bata' foot-wear! I
I also remember those shoe-makers, cobblers, the friendly 'mochis' as they were called in the neighbour-hood who with their wonderful skills used to mend those impossibly torn chappals or shoes for a pittance, so that you can postpone spending your valuable 99 Rs or 199 Rs on that new 'Bata' foot-wear! I
Then there were mobile barbers and even ear-wax removers moving around with their kits, who looked straight out of R.K.Narayan’s ‘Malgudi’ village!
Then there were some who would interrupt your siesta at home in the afternoon and co-erce your taste-buds with amazing vocal tactics - 'Kulfi-wallahs', 'home-made ice-cream-walas', 'the fruit vendors, 'murukku-thattai' (crunchy southie delights!) selling ladies and the 'nankhataai'-wala with his trunk full of fresh home-made biscuits that were so tasty that they could give the branded cookies a run for their money!
Then there were some who would interrupt your siesta at home in the afternoon and co-erce your taste-buds with amazing vocal tactics - 'Kulfi-wallahs', 'home-made ice-cream-walas', 'the fruit vendors, 'murukku-thattai' (crunchy southie delights!) selling ladies and the 'nankhataai'-wala with his trunk full of fresh home-made biscuits that were so tasty that they could give the branded cookies a run for their money!
Not to forget that ‘Kachha Kelawala’ whose specialty was raw bananas. He would come all the way from Mira Road to Matunga by train to target South Indians in the locality to cash on their weakness for raw banana curry and ‘Kela bhajiya’s’. He used to have two huge baskets of raw plantains tied by ropes to a stick and supported like a balance on his shoulder. An innovative salesman, he would sing aloud the latest Bollywood number to attract attention and call out to the house-wives to their balconies, in his half-learnt Tamil, ‘Mami! Nalla Irukka! Vaalakka, Vaalakka!’. A bargaining battle will then ensue between him and the ladies,he will act as if he is giving away his profit margin but finally have his own way and collect a neat amount and go with his empty baskets happily singing aloud. I have observed the same scene for almost a decade with interest. The last time I saw him was when he was singing ‘Kabhi Kabhi mere dil-mein khayaal aata hai---!’
A humble salute to all of them on the occasion of ‘May Day’!
S.V.Nathan.
S.V.Nathan.
© SUBRAMANIAM VISWANATHAN., all rights reserved.
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