Page 34 - Issue 01

Rina Singh had earlier been an ayah at a private hospital. She didn’t have the luxury of the
sophistication of being termed as a nurse. Later in time she wasn’t accepted for re-joining
after going through the trauma of a tumour surgery which made her memory somewhat
impaired. Her husband had abandoned her long back leaving behind two daughters and a

son. Both of her daughters had been married off in spite of one being just 20. Her only son
hardly cared for her, with him having shifted away to a different place. Rina, 55 normally
earns her living by taking care of patients, after being privately hired by families on a daily
basis. Now as lockdown was imposed on the city and public transport made unavailable,
neither was she demanded by her employers nor was she able to visit their places which
happened to be some 10 kilometres away from her home. Being a daily wage worker, no one
was obligated to pay her. Near about one month into the lockdown she had to cycle 20 odd

Kilometres to her earlier places of work in hope of some assistance only to return with 400
rupees. Her savings dipped nil and with little hope of normalcy, time could any moment have
become a measure of hunger for her. Adding to the problems were the statuses of her
daughters. The husband of one had been fleeing for over one month now in the fear of being
quarantined, since he migrated back to the city after the lockdown had been imposed. The

other daughter Priyanka compulsively added to Rina’s financial burden. I happened to
survey Rina and one of her daughters and the state of affairs that unfolded was nothing but
disturbing.
When Rina Singh approached the so called authorities for free ration, she was plainly denied

on the pretext that her son was associated with a political party which differed from theirs.
Rina in frustration came back home only to throw away the flags and emblems of the party
which belonged to her son in a nearby field. “Do I look like a beggar at their mercy?”
exclaimed Rina at despair. Both of us knew that situations would force her to give up her cry
on social justice and eventually frame herself as a beggar adding one more justification to the

tags bestowed upon us by the developed nations. From the land which advocated social
justice in its capability approach, this is nothing but a very tragic irony. Her daughter
illuminated another side of the story. Priyanka was a part of a joint family in one of the slums
some 4 kilometres away from her mother’s house. She had recently been on conflicting terms
with her in-laws which made matters more severe for her during the period.

Her husband was thrown out of his job and he gave into his habit of alcohol a bit more. It was

a well known secret for them now that alcohol could be bought at a higher price from the
very personnel’s who had been in charge of prohibiting the sales during lockdown. To make
matters worse she even got denied of the local distribution facilities which happened to exist
in her locality with the people there citing the fact that others in her family had already
opted for it. Unfortunately none was shared by her family with her. Her one year old child’s
medical expenses and minimal ration needs were thus taken care of, by her already

distressed mother Rina.

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