Musings of a Delhi Boy

Those of us, who were born in the late fifties and sixties, and aficionados of Hindi films, would certainly have watched the BR Chopra directed opus, Naya Daur, which, along with the other classic block buster, Mother India, also made in 1957, represent one of the most glorious years of Indian, if not world cinema. Coming barely a decade after the nation attained freedom from the yoke of colonial rule, and tragedy of the subcontinent’s partition under one of the most gruesome circumstances witnessed in human history, both the films espoused and represented the philosophy of Nehru, on which the young nation’s foundation was being laid at that point in time. Especially Naya Daur showcased just how, when socialism driven industry (or machines) made initial inroads into rural India, which was totally dependent on human intensive and animal driven labor for survival, sparks of conflict burst forth.

If one were to weed out the add-ons of romance, comedy, good music, all-time hit songs and drama, the story, penned by Akhtar Mirza, is about Shankar (the legendary Dilip Kumar- playing the role with chutzpah, pathos, and empathy in equal measure) a subsistence level tongawala in a poor village located in the hinterland, who, along with others, ekes a meagre living by ferrying passengers from the railway station. In the meantime, Kundan (Jeevan- as mean as ever) arrives on the scene with a stated ambition and vision (none too bad either) to mechanize and modernize the village, which he feels has been left behind in the race to industrialization, and is still mired in back breaking poverty. As a first step towards the realization of his dreams, he brings an electric saw in the mill- to replace the manual one- which renders several workers jobless.

But that is just the beginning of the faceoff.

Kundan comes in direct conflict with Shankar and other tongawalas when he introduces a bus to ferry passengers from the railway station to the village, thereby, not only impacting their livelihoods, but closing all future avenues for them, as that is the only trait they have imbibed in their lives, and the only skill at their command. All pleas by Shankar, and others, asking Kundan to withdraw his bus service fall on deaf ears. On the contrary, Kundan throws a challenge at Shankar- that if he can ride his tonga faster than the bus, he will withdraw his bus service. Against the advice of his friends, Shankar accepts the challenge, with a condition that the race will be held after a period of three months, during which period he proposes to build a road that is six miles shorter than the existing route. The enraged villagers- thinking that Shankar has lost his mind- decide not to support him in his hackneyed project.

Not the one to lose hope, Shankar starts building the road all by himself, at which stage he is joined by Rajni (Vyjantimala- Dilip Kumar’s love interest). Expectedly, soon, other villagers join in the onerous endeavor to ensure that it is completed on time. In between, Krishna (Ajit), Shankar’s estranged friend, joins hands with Kundan to sabotage a strategic bridge on the new road. But the nefarious design is thwarted as Krishna sees reason in the nick of time.

Finally, on the D day, in an exciting race, it is Shankar, riding his Tonga, who defeats Kundan, driving his bus…….

Well, this was a synopsis of the old Naya Daur ……

Now, I present a new Naya Daur for you……

The Delhi in which I was born in the late sixties and grew up over the years hardly had any cars. Most of these were the Hindustan Motors Ambassador, which belonged primarily to the government departments. If a private citizen were to own one, maybe a FIAT, it was one of the ultimate status symbols. Another group of people who owned cars- those too imported models- were the diplomats posted in foreign missions, located in the sanitized environs of Chanakya Puri in Central Delhi.

During this high phase of socialism, even owning a scooter was considered quite a status symbol. I remember when my father brought home a light blue Bajaj in 1973- after disposing off his Rajdoot motorcycle- we were the cynosure of the Central Government Officers’ Residential Complex where we used to stay . Bajaj-of the Hamara Bajaj tagline- had a monopoly over the market, with Lambretta being a distant second, almost a non-entity. Scores of people made sacks full of money by arranging foreign exchange from their relatives settled abroad to buy the Chetak scooter- which was available only on paying foreign exchange- and then selling it for a premium. Obviously, there were exceptions to this rat race, men of rare honesty & integrity, like my beloved father, who never indulged in such surreptitious activities, despite having the wherewithal to do so. In fact, that light blue Bajaj scooter was to be the only vehicle my father owned till he left us in the physical form in 2017. And such was his dedication and passion for it, that even after forty-four long years, the scooter was in excellent running condition, and Daddy, even at 87 years, took pride in cleaning it himself, each morning.

The winds of change began when Indira Gandhi’s pampered younger son, Sanjay, decided to launch his long delayed and controversial low car project- the Maruti. After some initial hiccups, it hit the country like a whirlwind, and became the aspirational part of every middle class family. Gradually, it invaded the Indian roads, and had already captured the Indian market and hearts before liberalization of the economy by the team of PV Narsimha Rao and Manmohan Singh paved the way for the entry of European and American car brands into the country- offering the customer unthought-of choice in terms of price, model and much else.

We became a car crazy nation.

With that emerged a new job profile, hitherto unheard of or not required – that of the car cleaner. Every residential and commercial complex- in big as well as small cities, in metros and towns- saw an influx of young men (and often a sprinkling of women) from what I have gathered in my interaction with them, from different parts of interior Bihar and Uttar Pradesh. Most of these young boys (by my yardstick), who do this as a part time task in the morning, before doing sundry jobs during the day, are from economically lower strata of the society, and school dropouts. The rate per car- a normal sedan- in a city like Delhi, is Rs. 300/- per month, with one day off in a week, which makes it Rs. 10/- per day. On an average, a car cleaner will have 10-12 cars in his kitty, and will make around four grand in a month, investing 3-4 hours per day, although the bone chilling, almost freezing, sub-zero temperature makes touching water soaked cloth a nightmare in the fog-filled Delhi winter mornings- that too in the windswept open.

Salim, a 24 years, fifth class dropout, married, with one daughter, from a remote village in the Hajipur district of Bihar was the guy my wife hired to clean our new Maruti Vitara Brezza in January 2021 @ Rs. 400/- p.m., a Rs. 100/- escalation from my previous sedan. On a Sunday, when he came to take the keys of the car, so that he could clean the interiors, I asked him these details, and found him to be extremely erudite in demeanor, and boyish in looks. He told me that his parents were still in their ancestral village, along with his younger siblings. Along with car cleaning, he worked as a driver with a local businessman. At one point in time he had harbored a strong desire to study further, which was nixed in the bud due to severe financial constraints, but he was determined to take his daughter through school, and maybe further, though the pandemic had crippled his earnings for months on end, putting his dreams in jeopardy.

Almost on cue, this was the story of most others I am usually adept at picking up a conversation with.

Unexpectedly, a few days later, our society was overrun by a bevy of young, handsome boys and petite girls, attired in smart uniform, going from one apartment to the next, advertising what they said was a first of its kind, unique car cleaning service initiated by a startup. They listed a host of advantages vis-à-vis the not too clean and reliable manual car-cleaner we presently hired – quick hands free cleaning using a vacuum cleaner, including the boot, no weekly off, upholstery washing etc.- all at a service fee of Rs. 600/- p.m. Definitely, this was something I could afford, especially for my new SUV. The lady at the door of my apartment even offered an instant discount of Rs. 100/- for the first month, if I signed there and then. Bowled over by the enhancement in the standards on offer, I went inside to fetch my wallet, took out a crisp Rs. 500/- note, and was about to hand it over to the enthusiastic girl, for whom this obviously meant a lot.

But just then, a thought stuck me, like a bolt from the blue.

What will happen to Salim? Will he not lose one source of livelihood because of me? Will his daughter’s chance of an education get hampered because of me?

Well, a Naya Daur dilemma loomed in front of my eyes, 64 years after BR Chopra’s opus, Naya Daur was released….

I politely asked the girl to get in touch with me later, as I put the wallet back into my pocket, and closed the chapter for another date…..