THE BOMBAY BHISTI

This article appeared originally in Mumbai Mirror, of the Times Of India group.

"It was "Din! Din! Din! You 'eathen, where the mischief 'ave you been?
You put some juldee in it, Or I'll marrow you this minute, If you
don't fill up my helmet, Gunga Din!"



THE ABOVE PART SHOULD BE IN ITALICS

Rudyard Kipling's spirited depiction of "regimental bhisti" Gunga Din
comes with a sad parody of the derogatory gaze in which colonials held
an Indian labourer. One wonders though if the Raj's disappearance has
made any difference to the ancient water carrying tribe: known as
Pakhalis in Marathi and Mashakwaalas or Bishtis in Urdu and Hindi.
50 year old bishti Sarif Ahmad at Char Null Dongri flashes a cheap
painkiller the doctor's asked him to take: "This eases the pain, but
doesn't heal anything." His knees and hipbone have all but crumbled,
he says, from carrying 30 litres of water across streets and up
buildings for over 30 years. Three of the bishtis with him ask us for
a job. They are dying to cast aside a burden which most celebrators of
tradition overlook the weight of.
Ahmad is a "khandaani bhishti", whose forefathers in Haryana served
the badshahs from time immemorial. "When changes came, like the purdah
being relaxed and women going to wells themselves, we had to migrate
for work," he remembers. 36 year old Sagir Ali from UP, however, is
only the second generation into this profession: "My father came here
and became a bhishti and so have I." Sagir Alaudddin Bhisti is another
"khandaani bhishti" from Rajasthan. While Anwar Mia and Mubarak Ali,
in their early 20s, have left low paying restaurant jobs to be
Bhishtis for the first time.
Bhishti groups operate area wise, with agreements not to encroach on
another's square kilometers. Bhendi Bazaar, Null Bazaar, Madanpura,
Pila Haus, Foras Road, Kamathipura and Pydhonie vary in their bhishti
populations as per demand. Hence the total number of Bhishtis – quoted
at anything from 70 to 150 is unascertained. The bhishtis charge four
to six rupees to deliver water to ground floor locations and eight to
ten rupees for higher floors. The monthly earning of each varies from
Rs 700 to 1,200. While roughly Rs 100 a month goes as "hafta to the
police", Rs 1200 has to be paid for a new 30 litre leather (goat or
buffalo skin) bag or 'mashak' every six months – which is how long it
lasts. "But the advantage over a job is that you get instant cash, and
that you're not a 'servant'," most claim.
One reason many want out, still, is because business has been dropping
steadily since residents installed motor pumps. "We only deliver if
someone oversleeps – and forgets to fill water, needs extra water for
house guests or if their motor stops working," Alauddin Bhisti sums
up. Also, their leather bags make them inauspicious for Hindu
localities. But the overwhelming bane remains the toll this manual
labour takes on their body: "We are like thelawaalas. No one chooses
such professions."
The Bhishti Mohalla near JJ Hospital was named such because of
residence areas being compartmentalized as per profession in old
Bombay. "But no one living in these houses is a bhishti anymore,
though they have 'bhisti' as their surname," Meherdin Bhisti who
operates with Abdul Rehman and Naviser Bhisti from Bhishti Mohalla
(all of whom sleep on the pavement) says. Rehman, 57 and too old to
work as a Bhisti anymore, makes the 'mashaks' he once bore: "I sell
only 15 to 20 bags a year." But recent buys by exporters, marketing
such pouches in Karballa in Iraq, might improve matters. "He is lucky
to be alive," remarks 50 year old Ahmad of this. "I sometimes feel
when I sleep after a day's work… I won't get up." Which brings us back
to Kipling:


"So I'll meet 'im later on, At the place where 'e is gone – Where it's
always double drill and no canteen; 'E'll be squattin' on the coals,
Givin' drink to poor damned souls, An' I'll get a swig in hell from
Gunga Din! Though I've belted you and flayed you, By the livin' Gawd
that made you, You're a better man than I am, Gunga Din!"