The Hindu Business Line : Tea with `Chottu' & friends

RAM Mahadev Ingle is a 14-year-old boy from Akola. When the rains driven by strong winds stormed into Mumbai on Tuesday a wet Ram in a T-shirt, three-quarter pant and bare feet, was walking up and down the footpath handing over glasses of hot cutting tea at Rs 2.50 per glass to the waiting clientele. The regular crowd has lovingly nicknamed him Chhotu. It is usual for Amit, Dhimant and me to amble to the tea shop, owned by Mohammad Sheikh, to call up Chhotu for three cuttings and for the fellow to serve three glasses of tea with a shy toothy smile.

Some two months ago Chhotu with his grandmother landed at Churchgate station from Akola. She asked him to wait and went her way never to come back. Chhotu waited for his grandmother in vain. He has no mother or father or rather cannot recall them. "Gaon mein mama aur mami hai, (My uncle and aunt stay in the village at Akola)," Chhotu told us haltingly, and we did not have the heart to tear open his innocence. In a few days, Mohammad Sheikh (popularly known as Raju), who runs a tea shop near the offices of LIC, helped out Chhotu and today Chhotu lives with him.

Every kiosk vendor selling cigarettes to leather purses to fruit juices provide complete cover to Chhotu. "O humlogon ka hai (He is ours)," they say. The kid is today studying in Class 7 at a municipal school. His day starts with going to school at 7 to come back to the LIC corner at 12.30 in the afternoon.

After lunch, provided free by Raju, Chhotu serves tea till 8 in the evening and goes back to a nearby garage to study in the night. "Hum iska sub kuch dekh lete hain; ladka acha padtha hai (I fund his living; he is good at his studies)," says Raju in a soft tone of concern.

One knows Raju from the days he sold cigarettes near our office before the Mumbai Municipality banished him and many of my good friends. Raju is a bit scared of someone charging him with child labour and does not insist on Chhotu doing any work for pay.

The best friend of Ingle is 14-year-old Sunil Mandal from Jharkhand earning about Rs 1,000 per month. He makes the tea when Raju is not around and adds a bit of crushed ginger on demand to make it tasty during rains. He has finished Class 7 and has been in Mumbai for about eight to nine months.

He is not for further studies and went on with tea-making when Dhimant asked him why he did not join a night school. In fact, Dhimant has promised to fund the studies and other expenses of Chhotu.

With the H.T. Parekh Marg, a narrow lane in front of our office, out of bound for hawkers there is talk of doing away with my friends near the LIC offices. Some days ago, a few armed policemen tried to get rid of them but they went away and have not yet come back.

Most of the hawkers in the area live in garages of the housing societies beside the LIC offices with some of the residents helping them. One of them is Mohammad Sanawar from Hardoi district, near Lucknow, and is related to Raju.

For the last many years, he has supplied me with genuine leather purses at Rs 100 a piece. On Saturday one went over to Sanawar for a chat. "Kya saab main aap ko dekhtha hoon Raju ke dukan pe chai peethe. Par idhar nahin aate hain (I see you regularly having tea at Raju's shop but you don't come here)," he said, chewing a pan and smiling at the same time.

One was in need of a leather purse and he showed me three varieties and offered me the best at Rs 100. "Ye subse achha hai (This is the best)," he told me. When one pointed out to Sanawar a paper strap around the purse announcing its Italian origin, he remarked "Ye bakwas hai (That's a bluff)."

The 24-year-old fellow buys items from the wholesale market in Crawford market and earns about Rs 7,000 a month, which includes washing a few cars in the housing societies at Rs 200 per vehicle. In Borivili, the washing charges per car are Rs 300, while for a bike it is Rs 95 per month. His parents own a piece of land at Hardoi where his two brothers work, while his sister has been married off. "Idhar jyada din nahin tik sakthe (We will not be able to last long here)," he told me.

He shares with friends a garage owned by a Muslim merchant for free who also picks up his food bill. Sanawar wants to go home and seems to have built two shops in his village. Seemingly, the shops are owned by a friend who managed to get a bank loan. With some funds from his merchant friend, Sanawar plans to work the shops in the near future as bankers often say. "Par kya hai saab Hardoi mein dhanda thanda hai (Saab, business is dull in Hardoi)," he said, as we parted.

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