An Hour with Migrants During Lockdown, by Mathew Mattam, Pune

Born and raised in Kanakkary, Kerala and currently residing in Pune, Maharashtra, Matthew is constantly changing himself and contributing towards transforming others.

It was mid-May, 2020. The sun was too hot. As usual, my colleague and I reached the gurudwara in Pune, the Sikh temple, where we would pick up food to distribute to migrants walking towards their home states due to the pandemic. At the gate, we found fourteen young people sitting helplessly by the roadside. Two police officers stood nearby, and I asked them about these youth. 

"These are migrants who walked here from Sangli, we found them resting on the roadside," said one of the officers.  

Sangli is almost 250 km away from Pune– they must have started walking three days ago, I imagined. They were on their way to Beloda Bazaar, in Chhattisgarh– almost 1,500 km away from Pune. I’ve visited the place many times and work with a few youth volunteers there. 

Only trains could take them to Beloda Bazzar, but trains were not running. A bus from Pune would take them to the Maharashtra border, and from there, they would need to get another vehicle to travel to their homes. 

I asked them, “Have you eaten?” 

They told me they had not eaten anything on the journey or since they arrived, as nothing was available to them, and no shops were open in the city. Soon, the person in charge of the gurudwara came with food. They ate everything right away. 

Then the police officer told them to walk to Wankeshwar Park, which is another 15 km away from the gurudwara.  

“Once you get there, you will get buses to the Chhattisgarh border,” retorted another police officer. 

But how will they get from the Maharashtra border to Beloda Bazzar? I wondered.

One youth was limping, and on another’s leg was bruised.  All seemed tired and not able to walk an inch further. They looked at me, as though seeking help. By that time, I had collected food and was planning to leave. The helplessness was visible on their faces. I wondered how they would reach their homes.

“Why can't you arrange a vehicle for them?" I asked the police officer.  

“All our vehicles have left for different destinations, to distribute food," he said. 

So I asked my colleague whether we could drop them at Wankeshwar Park. We were driving a small Tempo and carrying three vessels full of hot food. Still, we took all fourteen of them in the vehicle. Now, the happiness on their faces was visible. 

By the time we reached Wankeshwar Park, we found police officers planning travel for hundreds of migrants gathered there. 

I went to one of them and asked, “Sir, we are from an NGO supporting the migrants. Is there any bus going to the Chhattisgarh border”? I asked.  

“Not now,” said the officer.

We told him that any bus going to the Chhattisgarh border needed to include these young people too.

I turned to them and said, “Please, don’t walk to Chhattisgarh, even if you need to wait a few more days here. I’ll arrange your food and send you by the next bus available.”  

They nodded. I left to pack the food into small containers for distribution. At around 6 p.m. that evening, I called one of the youth and learned they were still waiting. But when we reached them, they were very joyful, because by that time, the police had contacted them and taken their names and the necessary details for their bus travel. 

As they were boarding their bus, we gave them each a food packet. We said good bye and left to begin food distribution to the many other migrants walking along the highway. 

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(This story was prepared for an “Imagine Another World” online storytelling workshop held October 28, 2020.)

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