It looked like an ordinary Thursday morning for Sajan, a resident of Nathupur jhuggi near Gurugram. His parents were away at work and the 17-year-old was busy on his mobile phone, when a girl suddenly pulled him out of his shanty at about 10 am. The sight he witnessed after stepping out is something that the teenager can’t forget.
Sajan’s home was among a cluster of around 40 shanties that were gutted at one go on Thursday, 24 January. No casualty was reported in the incident. “There was no one at home and I was really scared,” he says. Ask him if he felt scared and the teenager, sporting a silver locket, answers, “Obviously I was scared. LPG cylinders were exploding left, right and centre.”
Sajan’s family hails from West Bengal, much like most other families of the jhuggi who lost their only home in the north to Thursday’s fire. His mother, Jaheda, who works as a housekeeping staff at a nearby office, was at work when she got a call informing her about the inferno.
She rushed back to her shanty, only to find ashes in its place. “I lost Rs 30,000 in the fire. Even my fridge and TV have been reduced to ashes,” she adds. Her material loss notwithstanding, Jadeha has to look for a shelter.
Thirty-year-old Mohd Roz Sheikh, too, was away at work when he heard about the fire. His ageing parents, who were at home, had alerted him about the fire. Ask about the remains of their only TV and his mother remarks in Bengali oi TV r ar dekha pabe jabe na (You won’t find the TV, it’s turned into ash.)
The only thing that Sheikh's mother could recover from their shanty was a silver anklet. Having lost everything, she held on to it like how a devotee holds sacred beads.
Jelika Bibi works as a domestic maid and has three other members in her family. Her eight-year-old daugher, Monipa, was alone at home when the fire broke out. Like Sajad, she, too, was pulled out of her shanty. “I was so terrified that I couldn’t stop crying,” she adds.
Monipa then ran to her mother's workplace, to inform her about the fire. Jaleba Bibi doesn’t know what’s in store for her family. She, much like others at the jhuggi, have nowhere to go.
Home to around 130 people, the jhuggi primarily comprised migrants from Bengal, who would make a living out of odd jobs. As a local resident pointed out, “Most here hail from economically-weaker sections and are employed as housekeeping staff and watchmen. Some even drive auto-rickshaws to make a living. No one here sits at home.”
By noon, most at the jhuggi had managed to confront their sense of material loss. But tears wouldn’t stop rolling from 30-year-old Aklima’s eyes. The domestic help came back home to realise that gold jewellery worth Rs 40,000 that she had made for her 16-year-old daughter was missing.
She couldn’t find the brand-new LED TV that she had made a special wooden case for. “We had worked really hard to save money for buying a TV. We had even made a box for it. Now it’s gone.”
So upset was Aklima at her loss, that no amount of coaxing by her compassionate neighbour could make her taste a plate of hot khichidi.
But as Aklima refused to eat a single grain, someone from her charred jhuggi remarked aree, kha lo ab. Jo gaya hai, woh phir se aajayega. Phir se sab ban jayega naya. (You should eat now. You’ll get back whatever you’ve lost with time.)
Having lost everything they had to the fire, the sense of hope in the continuing wheel of life, is perhaps, the only thing that the humans of Nathupur still haven’t given up on.
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