A Tiranga yatra

Clutching their quota of flags, with the deep saffron and green offsetting the dreary colours of the cloudy morning, the two rush to the cars which have come to a halt. In this journey of the Tricolour to homes as a flag, cap or wristband, that picks pace ahead of August 15 and comes to a halt with it, the traffic signals are a crucial pit stop.

Akash and Reshma have exactly 90 seconds to charm their customers, in the sapping morning rush.

Akash bunches up her tattered maroon skirt and sprints towards an SUV with her set of 20 flags. Reshma follows close behind. “Dedh sau ka ek hai, khareed lo na (one flag is for Rs 150, please buy it),” Akash coaxes the driver, who looks annoyed as she presses one of the flags to the car’s windscreen.

Seeing his indifference, Akash says, “Some customers scold us. Kuchch nahin bole to phir bhi theek hai (It is better if they don’t say anything).”

In another lane, Reshma is leaning on an Alto that has its windows rolled down. Her offer is a flag for Rs 100. Seeing that her customer isn’t swayed either, she begins rubbing her eyes with one hand, pretending to cry. The driver continues to stare at the traffic signal impatiently. The signal finally turns green, and Reshma swiftly moves away from the car, and darts towards the footpath, her little crying act now replaced by an ear-to-ear grin.

“I haven’t sold a single flag so far today,” she complains later, squatting. She keeps the flags, made of a satin-polyster cloth mix, though, in her hand. “This time we don’t have plastic flags,” she says. “If we keep these down, they will get

Looking restively at the cars speeding past, Akash sighs, “We have to sell 200 flags in one week. It is already Wednesday, and we have only sold about 40 of them so far, with just four more days to go.”

The 4-year-old brother of Reshma and Akash (Express Photo by Ankita Dwivedi Johri)

Akash and Reshma live with their younger brother, 4, and parents Kalyan and Rajanti under the Moolchand flyover in South Delhi, along with 50 other hawkers. The family earlier lived in a slum in Sawai Madhopur in Rajasthan, and moved to the Capital two years ago seeking a better life.

Now, every morning at 8, they spread out around the South Extension-Kotla traffic junction, 2 km from the Moolchand flyover, selling everything from toy cars, key chains, and cloth dusters, to miniature national flags before Independence Day and Republic Day.

Akash, who gets up by 6 am to make chapatis for lunch for the entire family before they set out, says flags are hard to maintain in the open. “It has been raining so I cover them in plastic sheets every night after getting back home. In the morning, we unwrap them and reach the signal between 8:30 and 9 am. Sab office waale aate hain, jyaada jaam hota hai (People go to office at this time, there are more traffic jams then),” reasons the 10-year-old, explaining why mornings are ideal to find customers.

After two years on the street, they have the market for flags all figured out. “My father bought 2,000 of these flags from Sadar Bazaar last week. He did the same before January 26 too,” says Reshma, returning to the footpath after another failed attempt at selling the flags. The eight-year-old also lets out a trade secret inadvertently. The flag she is offering for Rs 100 cost them Rs 25, she says.

One of the largest wholesale markets of household items in the Capital, Sadar Bazaar in Old Delhi has around eight vendors selling miniature flags and other Independence Day items. One of them is Umesh Arora, who owns Muskaan Enterprises.

Arora, who also sells banners and political party flags, says the flags are manufactured in three places, Mumbai and Surat in India, and China. “For Independence Day, we place our order by April first week. Earlier we ordered plastic flags too, but these are not allowed anymore. The cloth flags come from Mumbai and Surat, and the paper flags are sourced from China,” he says.

China trades big in I-Day-themed goods, Arora adds, including hats, balloons and wristbands. His shopkeeper customers, in Delhi and from states such as Uttar Pradesh, Chhattisgarh, J&K and Bihar, collect their consignments a month in advance, but the hawkers start coming in the last week, he adds.

After China, Sadar Bazaar and the rains, the Tricolour must now survive the test of this South Extension-Kotla traffic signal. Around 11 am, the sky clears. Looking at the flags, now shining brightly in the sun, Reshma says, “On Sunday, business is good. On weekdays, people are in a rush, so they don’t even notice the flags. Par pooja ke liye jhanda to chaahiye hoga na (But one needs flags for praying, isn’t it)?”

Akash is in splits. “Pooja? Ye Swatantrata Diwas ke liye hai, pagal (Praying? These flags are for Independence Day, moron),” she tells her sister laughing.

Come August 15, Prime Minister Narendra Modi has asked his ministers and party leaders to set out on Tiranga Yatra to evoke “nationalism and patriotism”. The sisters admit it’s the first they are hearing of it, and certainly the flag sales have shown no difference either. Looking at each other first blankly and then with a blush, the sisters say, “Kya Modi…?”

Anil Seth, a flag vendor at Sadar Bazaar, who has been in the business for 11 years, also says sales are down. “On the first Independence Day after the Modi government took charge, bahut badhiya sale hua tha (the sales were very good). But this year, quite a bit of our Republic day stock got left over, and we are using those flags now. Hopefully, this time all the flags will be sold.”

Still, Akash and Reshma are looking forward to Independence Day, and it has little to do with the flag. “We go for classes to a centre near Moolchand flyover. We have been told we will get Colgate (toothpaste) there on August 15, along with Frooti and biscuits,” smiles Akash. “Chidiya bhi toh khelenge (We will play too),” quips Reshma, explaining with gestures a game that looks like badminton.

The thought distracts them for a few minutes, but soon the sisters are back at work. Setting off across the road again, deftly manoeuvring past cars, Akash, who has sold three flags so far, grins, “Mummy will get us new clothes too if we sell all the flags.”

Half an hour later, Reshma asks Akash to accompany her to the toilet at the next signal. “We can only go to the toilet twice a day. It is a 20-minute walk and we lose out on customers,” says Akash, telling the younger one to hold on a bit longer while she tries to sell another flag.

When the signal turns red next, Reshma leaves nothing to chance, dashing from car to car, trying everything — nagging, crying, smiling. Finally she spots a car with a child, around four years old. Waving the Tricolour so as to ensure the child in the backseat can’t miss it, she repeats her offer of a flag for Rs 100.

The child soon starts pleading with his parents to buy him the flag. After a little bargaining, Reshma happily hands over the flag for Rs 70. The tactic of targeting children always works, Reshma smiles later, adding, “Rs 50 is the lower limit for us (to sell). Anything above that is fine.”

With four flags sold, the sisters walk to the Sulabh shauchalaya for their first toilet break of the day. The car with the child and flag has already left them far behind.