Everyday heroes

I remember when I first moved to Mumbai from Kolkata in the mid-1980s, one could get lovely fresh milk from the neighbourhood milk and curd shops. These used to open before 6 am and stay open till after 11 pm which was a great boon for people like me trying to get used to the rigours of working life in Mumbai. Travel by the local trains took one past the buffalo sheds in Jogeshwari and Malad which was in a way reassuring about the freshness of the wares of the neighbourhood milkman.

Of course, within a decade the builders had had their way and the buffalo sheds disappeared and so did the milk and curd shops. The only saviour was the “packet” milk, the quality of which had serious impact on my ghee production at home.

When I shifted to Santiniketan, I hoped I would find a milkman who could supply me fresh milk and I would not have the dilemmas of my friends about “toned” and "half toned” and the many shades of milk.

I did find a milkman who not only delivered at our doorstep but was willing to sell us the minuscule amount of half a litre which is all I required for my daily curd setting. Over his daily visits, we got friendly and one year he invited us to his home for Durga puja. His village near Nanoor in our district Birbhum is about 35 km from our house.

We accepted his invitation and turned up on one of the five puja days. His house was that of a wealthy man in his village — double storied made of mud and straw. We saw his cows which took me back to my Mumbai buffalo memories. But right beside his house, he had built a small “Durga mandir” in cement which is what he proudly showed us. We spent the day there, had lunch and left after leaving a sizeable donation for the puja.

The next year again, he extended an invitation and asked for a puja donation in advance. I declined saying that I would rather help with his children’s’ studies rather than some puja which in my mind was wasteful expenditure.

I could see that his demeanour changed since that incident and he was distinctly less chatty as he poured milk into my bowl every day.

I thought that once the lockdown happened, we would have to do without Kanu’s milk because he travels to Santiniketan from his house by bus and then takes a cycle which he leaves at the bus stop every day. I was surprised to see him come on the first day of the lockdown. He said he had cycled 35 kms from home. It had taken him three hours and he would cycle back. It took me a while to digest this information and it was only the next day, that I had synthesised it enough in my brain to be able to ask him what he did for lunch because no eateries were open. He said “yes that is a bit of a problem", without disclosing more details.

I told him I would make roti and sabzi for him for the days of the lockdown. He was genuinely thankful. A couple of days later he told me he sits and eats his lunch at a place where there is a submersible water pump and he can drink clean water. He recounted that a few policemen ate there too and apparently they lauded him for his 70-km cycle run daily.

I don’t know how many million such Covid warriors are there. What I do know is that I have been forgiven for my rudeness about Durga puja.