India

• In the quiet lanes of Thane, a suburb of Mumbai, Motilal Kanojia, 44, has been running his small coal-fired ironing shop for 28 years. When he was 16, his parents sent him and his three brothers from the Ganges city of Varanasi to earn money in the metropolis of Mumbai. Over the decades, millions of people like Motilal Kanojia have come to the city, which now has more than 22 million inhabitants. During the pandemic, they were put to the test: without jobs, without healthcare, trapped in small neighbourhoods. In 2019, we met Motilal Kanojia for a first interview (brand eins 7/2020: „An ironer in India“), shortly before the outbreak of the Covid-19 pandemic. We have now returned to find out how he and his company have coped.

How did you experience the pandemic?

When we first heard about the infections in the country, it didn't sound threatening. The disease was far away. But then a curfew was imposed in Mumbai and I had to close my business in March 2020. Like everyone else. I sat at home for three months: no work, no prospects. If I don't work for even one day, we won't have enough money to live on. People like us can't afford to close down for a day, even if we're sick. At that time, I could only hope and pray to God that we would survive.

Fortunately, some customers regularly left groceries at my doorstep and brought my daughter Pooja books, exercise books and pens for her homework. A customer from Punjab, a Sikh, provided my family and other neighbours with freshly cooked food for almost a week. A family from Germany, who had read the article about me, also sent us money. We have never met this family, they are like angels to us. I am very grateful for their help. It is only thanks to them that I was able to survive the crisis.

We live in a chawl (poor neighbourhood). During the curfew, the police were stationed right in front of our houses to ensure that no one went out. But people lost patience and the situation got out of hand. As soon as someone from our neighbourhood tried to leave the house, they were beaten up by the police. There was only one distraction for us, and that was the television. Once there was a short circuit and the TV cable burned. We couldn't call a technician because of the curfew. Those were the longest days of my life.

Many day labourers like me left the big cities and returned to their home villages. My brothers tried to persuade me to go with them to Varanasi. But I have been part of this neighbourhood for more than 20 years, people know me, I have many loyal customers. If I had left, I would have jeopardised everything. Besides, I've seen the terrible pictures on television of the overcrowded trains and buses. Of day labourers having to walk hundreds of miles. Of the dead. What would have happened if I had got Covid on the way? What would my family have done without me? So I said, whatever happens, I'm staying in Mumbai.

When my brothers arrived in Varanasi, they were not allowed to leave the station. They were quarantined for 15 days. The situation was much worse than ours. When they wanted to come back to Mumbai in May 2020, the family wouldn't let them: they were supposed to help in the fields and were paid almost nothing. By then I was able to work again and earn at least a little. It was only months later that the family let my brothers go. Now they work in restaurants, laundries or as rickshaw drivers.

How has your financial situation changed?

My income has gone up again - but so have all other prices. There is no way out of inflation, we are trapped. I don't feel that the government does enough for us little people. At the moment, my monthly income is around 8000 rupees (88 euros). When my daughter asks for snacks or an ice cream, I don't want to say no. But just the cost of our basic food, such as cereals, rice or lentils, is around 5000 rupees (55 euros) a month.

My daughter goes to an English school, which costs 1000 rupees (11 euros) a month. People like us are allowed to pay in installments. Two years ago the fee was only 700 rupees (8 euros). My daughter gets private tuition, for which I pay 600 rupees (7 euros) a month. Sometimes we have problems paying everything on time. But I don't want her to have to cut back on her studies, and in India, just going to school is not enough to get good grades. The competition is too tough and the teachers are too bad. To give my daughter a secure life, I have taken out a health insurance policy for her at a cost of 40,000 rupees (440 euros) a year. My wife and I do not have any insurance.

Apart from that, my biggest problem is the rising price of charcoal. Charcoal used to cost 30 rupees (33 cents) per kilo, now it's 50 rupees (55 cents). In a month, I need almost 90 kilos, which comes to 4,500 rupees (50 euros). People often ask me why I don't use an electric iron, especially as the fumes are so unhealthy. But I would need a stand with electricity, and that alone costs 15,000 rupees (165 euros). Then there is the cost of electricity.

An electric iron would solve some problems. My arms hurt from ironing with coal, my eyes burn, but I have to carry on. There is no other way for me. My father and uncle were also ironers. I think I inherited this fate from them. But my daughter will go to university one day, find a well-paid job and take her place in the world. Her favourite subject is English. She asks a lot of questions and is very curious. But talent and hard work are not enough. Corruption is widespread. I hope that in ten years' time, when Pooja chooses her career, the world will be fair and give her what she deserves. Many qualified people still find it difficult to get a decent job. They are either poorly paid or exploited in the workplace. I don't want that for my daughter. I am determined to give her a good life.

Unfortunately, my wife and the other women in the house were not able to complete their education. They were married off at a very young age. I want a different future for my daughter. She will be the best educated member of the family. I want her to get a good university degree and lead an independent life. She is currently in sixth grade and is ten years old. I am proud of her achievements. If she chooses a career in public service, such as the police, I would be very proud. She is my only daughter and I want to give her every opportunity.

How have you experienced the digitisation of India?

I've been able to pay by phone since September 2023. I'm not very tech-savvy and didn't want to know about online transfers at first. But my customers often came to me with 100 rupee notes (1 euro) and I didn't have enough change. So I always had to write down how much I owed them. Then more and more customers wanted to pay by phone, and one of them helped me set it up. Since then, it's worked without any problems and the money ends up in my account. It's very simple. Young people don't have cash these days anyway. I also save more because I no longer have cash in my pocket to tempt me to spend. Actually, it was my daughter who made me switch. She learnt about it at school and tried to install the application on my phone. But she's still too young to understand everything, so she couldn't complete the bank registration. I hope that in a few years, when she fully understands the concept of online payments, she will be able to teach me other things. I want to learn from her how to order online. I've never done it before. --

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To Series: India – A country on the move