JOIN USManoj Kashyap, a rickshaw puller on Friday afternoon had parked himself in one of the streets in Old Delhi, the venue from where broadcast channels would over the next couple of days barrage its audiences with images of the American President celebrating the Indian Republic Day. Last week, Kayshap was ‘directed’ not to roam around the area until further ‘notice’.
While many, like Kashyap, just followed what appears to be ‘standard procedure’, others, which include vendors, ragpickers, beggars and of course the homeless used the ‘opportunity’ make some sense of the ‘unofficial notices’ which rendered them redundant.
“There are commando parades in the months of August and January. It happens twice every year and on these days we work in evenings only,” said Kashyap. Did he find anything different this year? “This time the police is even stricter,” he said. When asked whether he thinks that increased strictness is because of the profile of chief guest of the Republic Day parade, Kashyap responds with a puzzled look on his face, “What is his name?” before leaning back to smoke a beedi on his rickshaw which is parked barely meters way from the Red Fort.
“Obama? Never heard of him,” he added.The venue along with large swathes of adjoining areas, every year, is put under a thick security blanket ahead of the Republic Day. With this year’s Republic Day having a special guest in the form of President Obama, the beefing of security measures was hardly a surprise. The army, police and paramilitary forces guard every nook and corner of the entire area displacing if not hundreds, but scores whose presence is perceived as undesirable.
As if following a well written script, men and women ‘disappeared’ from the high security zones, forcing a deserted look in the entire area, well before the actual Republic Day parade was to take place. There were of course those who seemed to have lost track of time and ended up going about their business in areas surrounding the Red Fort only to be allegedly chased away by the concerned authorities.
Liaqat Khan, a bhelpuri seller from Shahjahanpur (Uttar Pradesh) was perhaps the only one to have been spared the trouble. “I knew we won’t be allowed to work here so I came late. The ones who came earlier were chased away. They must be new to Delhi or might have just forgotten it’s January 26,” Khan said. A pair of shoes lying on footpath running parallel to the Netaji Subhash Road serves as enough evidence to Khan’s claims. Not far from here, a man, whose nose is bloodied, lay on the road to block the traffic, accusing police of
thrashing him.
Indu Prakash Singh heads the SAM: BKS or Shahri Adhikar Manch: Begharon Ke Saath (Urban Rights Forum: With the Homeless). “Making people invisible, that’s what it’s all about.
We have video graphic evidence of how the homeless were first verbally abused and then forced to stay indoors in the government-built shelter homes,” said Singh. He added that the exercise of ‘hiding people’ is not new. “During the Commonwealth Games, the poor of Delhi were thrown in border areas,” Singh added.
A police officer posted in the northern district denied chasing away anyone. “It’s about common sense. Owing to the security threat, police activities in the area multiply by several folds. Activities include checking, frisking and surveillance. Sensing discomfort some people leave the area . We don’t chase away anyone,” the officer said.
Meanwhile at one of the intersections in Old Delhi, another group of rickshaw pullers and ragpickers huddle up for a group discussion. The topic obviously being the much hyped ‘sanitation’ programme carried out by Delhi Police in the Red Fort area ahead of Obama’s visit.
“Our work suffered because of this political rally,” says one among the group only to be corrected by Naamun Pandey. “Mental hai kya. (Are you crazy). It’s the Republic Day,” Pandey says, perhaps the only one in the group who appears to know what exactly is going on.
“Doesn’t make much of a difference. There is no one to hear the pleas of the poor so it hardly matters if we celebrate the day or in fact know about it at all,” Pandey adds. “Koi sunvai nahi hai,” (There is no one to listen,” says his friend Irshad who is soon interrupted by Sonu Kinnar, a transgender who accuses ‘municipality department’ of chasing her friends away and even locking up some.
The group slowly disperses when a constable pulls his motorcycle in front of them. Moments later Sonu, Irshad, Pandey and many others would disappear into the narrow bylanes of Old Delhi, only to emerge a day after India would be done celebrating its Republic Day.