Tag: Delhi-NCR

Chronic Chest Congestion

‘I Suffer From Chronic Chest Congestion Due To Delhi Air’

By LokMarg Publishing

Mohd Kayam, a security guard in Delhi-NCR is living with chest congestion and cough. Medicines are a staple for him. More than himself, he is worried about his children, who are always suffering from cold and cough. He wonders if we can ever get our blue skies back

I clearly remember as kids, we used to count stars while sleeping on the terrace of our house in Muzaffarpur, Bihar. Now, a shroud of haze blankets the beautiful spread of stars that the universe laid out for us. I don’t remember when was the last time I saw stars like those. I am sure not many people in Delhi-NCR can recall it either. I feel sorry for the generation born now — would they know of stars only through nursery rhymes?

Can we ever get our blue skies back? I am a security guard. Every day, I am exposed to polluted air and harsh weather. As a precaution, I wear a mask, but I don’t know if it is actually of any use. After completing my 12-hours, when I go back home, wash my face and rinse my mouth, the sink turns black. Over the years, my health has deteriorated. It takes an effort to breathe. My chest is always congested and medicines have become a staple.

I have visited Lal Bahadur Hospital and local doctors in the past for treatment. What worries me the most is the health of my children. Children now have a compromised immunity. Air pollution is killing children and we are helpless. I have noticed that people living in high-rise apartments have stopped sending their kids to play in the open.

Air pollution has snatched away their childhood. It was never like this when we were young. We used to spend hours playing in the ground and even in mud. Smog has forced parents to keep their kids locked inside their homes. Parks, tennis and badminton courts are lying vacant. Only some senior citizens come for walks. It is just not about Delhi, people living in other parts of the country are also complaining of pollution-related issues. The situation is apocalyptic and I do not know if we have the power or capability to reverse the damage that has already been done. Companies are minting money selling masks and purifiers and the time is not too far when we will have to pay for clean air. 

NCR Uber Driver

'Life As An NCR Uber Driver Is A Struggle'

By LokMarg Publishing


ut as completion grew, his work hours went up and earnings dived. After paying up the loan instalment, house rent and the company commission, Bhabani barely makes to feed his family of three.

Everybody thinks that we Uber drivers have it made. We drive fairly new cars; we have GPS-enabled devices that help us navigate our vehicles; and we, at least most of us, look happy. But as Uber makes life easier for you, for us it has become harder. There are at least 1.5 lakh Uber cabs registered in Delhi. And an equal number of Ola cabs too. That means making a living from driving cabs is all about extra long hours and shrinking earnings.

Just to give you an idea, consider this: If you want to go from Gurgaon’s Galleria Market to Cybercity, an Uber can take you there for as little as ₹69. Do you know what an autorickshaw will charge you? ₹100. The Hyundai Accent I have is a year old. I paid ₹6.55 lakh for it for which I took a ₹4.6-lakh loan. My monthly loan payments are ₹13200 for four years.

There are other regular monthly payments that I have to make: Rs. 3000 as toll tax; about ₹1000 every day to Uber in commission; and fuel costs (I use CNG so that is about ₹15000 a month). If I take the car out at 6.30 am and work till 9.30 pm, after paying Uber and all the other costs, I usually end up with ₹16-18,000 a month. I have a wife and a five-year-old child and we live in a small room in Delhi’s Dakshinapuri.

I pay a rent of ₹4000. That leaves us around ₹12-14,000 on which to live. Things used to be different when I started out a year back. Uber offered good incentives and I could make around ₹25000 a month. But those good days are gone. There are too many of us on the roads now and the company has cut down all those incentives.

All through the day, I have to struggle to make even ₹2500 on trips. Every time a customer orders an Uber, there are at least five or six cars in the fray to capture that order. Then there’s the competition from Ola. I have a friend who works 24 hours at a stretch to make ends meet. He starts his day at 5 am, works till 5 am the next morning, and then sleeps the next day before repeating the same schedule the next day.

He’s 25 but looks like he’s 40! If I worked as a driver for someone, I think I could make more but now I’m stuck. I bought the car, have to pay back the loan, and I have to keep these long hours. Perhaps I should never have left my village in Tripura. (The author’s name has been changed to protect his identity; his version, based on an interview in Hindi, has been translated and edited by Lokmarg’s editors).

Low-Cost Spa

‘Low-Cost Spa Workers Often Treated as Prostitutes’

By LokMarg


Meenu, 32, moved from Manipur to Delhi a few years ago for better work prospects. She was lucky to find work at a reputed spa chain in the national capital region. That was a time when massage parlour business was mushrooming across NCR and she was soon offered better salary and ‘perks’ by a lesser known spa. “That was the biggest mistake of my life,” Meenu tells LokMarg.

Seven years back, when I moved to Delhi from Manipur, I was happy to be selected for training as a therapist by an international wellness chain. The group had branches in south Delhi, west Delhi, and NCR. I was posted in their Noida unit and was happy with the HR policies of the spa management.

Although we had an eight-hour shift, we were allowed to decline more than five hours of therapy sessions. If the number of sessions exceeded five hours, we would get incentives. Yes, there would be odd clients who asked for various favours, like ‘happy ending’ (a term used for masturbation performed at the end of a massage therapy), but we had management support in walking out on such clients.

Yet, most of the therapists obliged ‘decent’ clients for a ‘generous tip’. Things changed when I switched job to another local spa for want of better pay. This is when I realized the dark practices in those low-cost massage parlours that were mushrooming all over the city and offered services at half the cost, sometimes even lower, than the more organized establishments.

The high cost in my previous group discouraged or filtered the ill-intentioned clients. But in the new unit, I would meet patrons who made lewd passes, enjoyed talking dirty, flashed their genitals (often refused to wear the disposable underwear) and offered money for fellatio and ‘home-services’.

At times, some of them will take advantage of Valentine’s Day offers, come with a female partner and used the premises as ‘love nest’. When I complained about a certain regular client about his unruly behavior to the manager, the response was shocking.

The manager asked me insensitively if he had raped me. ‘Keep quiet and don’t ruin the business. The competition is tough,’ he said. I soon learnt that most of my fellow therapists had little training about a human body or muscle relaxation. They were there only to give the ‘services in demand’.

I also learned their operational terminology: ‘B2B’ meant body-to-body massage, which meant lying over a client with minimal clothing; Topless meant the client will touch or fondle your naked breasts and; ‘Full Service’ meant sleeping with the client.

Massage was never the call a client came for. As soon as the door was locked (in my previous spa centre, the door was closed but never locked) the deal would begin between the ‘therapists’ and the patron. It was nothing short of organized prostitution. The clients looked at you as if they were examining a commodity before purchase. I felt cheap.

I took leave and started negotiating with my previous employer for a return. They asked me to wait as they were facing low clientele due to tough completion. Then one day, my former manager called up to tell me that two of their therapists had left and there was a vacancy.

My first reaction was to call those who had left the job and ask them if they were joining some low-cost ‘massage parlour’; I wanted to tell them the risks involved. But, I let it be. We all learn about the perils of easy money our own hard way.

(The names of the therapist and her employers have been withheld at her request by LokMarg)