Recession under the radar
Your pay packet has just been trimmed. That means fewer trips to the malls, multiplexes and your favourite neighbourhood taproom. So, life is tough as hell, right? Perhaps. But, it’s nowhere as tough as it is for the millions of faceless non-city slickers who pass you by every day.
Many of these men and women live easier because of your copious consumption—waiters who you once tipped generously, taxi drivers who you once knew by first name, food stall owners who guessed your order by your voice on the phone. If the famed (and often discredited) trickle-down effect works like charm in the go-go times, it brutally kicks in the gut of those who now have to wait longer for those dribs and drabs to emerge when economic activity slows down. While this is true of most places in the country, Mumbai feels it most in terms of impact and extent by virtue of it being the commercial nerve centre. BT catches up with six men and women in the street who live life under the middle-class radar, but who are never totally out of it.
Mohamed Sarfuddin, 42 years
Profession, Truck driver
The dream run for India’s foreign trade over the last 6-7 years had the country’s ports buzzing. Mumbai’s Nhava Sheva, which accounts for nearly 8 per cent of India’s total trade turnover, reigned as India’s busiest entrepot. But the tide of trade has ebbed over the last 6-7 months. Now, fewer ships dock here.
The story of Indian exports being down in the dumps is well known, but less so of the people like Mohamed Sarfuddin on whose trucks shipments from Nhava Sheva were ferried to all corners of the country. Fewer ships docking at Nhava Sheva has meant fewer trips for Sarfuddin, a truck driver with a Mumbai-based fleet operator for import and export.
From the 7-8 trips that he used to do till a few months ago transporting gas, plastics, etc., from Nhava Sheva to various parts of the country, it’s down to 2-3 trips today, thanks to the slump in trade.
With his company paying him Rs 2,500 for each trip, in addition to a fixed monthly salary of Rs 6,500, Sarfuddin used to earn a neat Rs 24,000-26,500 a month, a sum good enough to keep his wife and five children with him in a chawl in Chembur. But with his earnings more than halved now, Sarfuddin has been forced to go back to where he had begun: his family is back in his hometown in Uttar Pradesh and he is living out of his truck now. Life has certainly come full circle for Sarfuddin, thanks to the recession.
Mahesh Bihari Gupta, 38 years
Profession, Food stall owner, Nariman Point
Stock markets in India have destroyed Rs 27 lakh crore of investor wealth since January 2008 and this is not counting the income of Mahesh Bihari Gupta. A bhelpuri and snacks vendor on one of the pavements in Nariman Point, Mumbai’s business hub and the country’s priciest real estate, Gupta has become an unwitting casualty of the market meltdown.
Indeed, Gupta’s fate has been inexorably linked to that of his clients, made up mostly of people from the various offices and broking firms, many of which had sprouted all over Nariman Point during the market boom of the last few years. Until a few months ago, when everybody still believed India would not be as badly hit as others in this global recession, when his clients talked of billion-dollar deals and brokers still bet on the rise and fall of stocks, and when the nearby Taj still stood unscathed as an icon of India’s business prowess, Gupta did sales of up to Rs 3,000 daily and managed to take home Rs 1,500 after paying for staff wages and raw materials.
But all that has changed today. Gupta’s clients now rarely talk about billion-dollar deals and his broker clients keep ruing the mandi (slowdown). His own business is down 30-35 per cent and his take-home income has dwindled to Rs 500-700. And all this because the November terrorist attacks on the Taj and Oberoi hotels together with the market downturn has forced several broking firms to either cut staff or relocate to suburbs. “Broker log ka office khali hogaya hai to parcel business mein sabse zada mandi hai,” says Gupta with the equanimity of a man who knows he can do precious little about this mandi.
Ram Tripathi, 48 years
Profession, Newspaper and magazine vendor
When the bulls were on the charge for five years before January 2008, Ram Tripathi made good money selling newspaper and magazines at his stall in front of the Bombay Stock Exchange (BSE). His 100-odd corporate clients in South Mumbai ensured a monthly income of Rs 15,000 for him. Also, watching people around him make money during the bull run emboldened Tripathi to take the plunge into stocks just before the Sensex hit the 20,000 mark last January.
But today, his stand sales have reduced to almost Rs 7,000-8,000 and the stock portfolio is bleeding. A venture capital fund that used to order two copies of business magazines takes a single copy only. The subscribers of Financial Times have reduced from seven to three.
Tripathi has learnt the lesson and it can be seen when a customer walks up to his stall and offers a stock tip. Tripathi nods his head, but doesn’t seem to be carried away. Another person stops by and tells him the market price of Reliance Petroleum. Tripathi isn’t excited because that price doesn’t cover his losses. “Hamare ko kya farak padta hai abhi,” he retorts.
So, when does he see bulls coming back to the street and ramping up his stand sales? Seeing octogenarian K.R. Choksey walk into the exchange, Tripathi points out: “When old-timers like him feel it’s the biggest downfall ever in the markets, then I think it’s going to be really bad.” He has another major apprehension. “Agar Mayawati ki sarkar bani to market aur bhi niche jayega,” he observes. Stuck in the Jam
Santosh Yadav, 26 years
Profession, Taxi Driver
Mumbai has always been the city of dreams for outsiders. While many arrive in the city looking for celluloid success, the majority flock here in search of bread-and-butter opportunities that abound in this commercial nerve centre. And if nothing else works out, one can always profitably become a taxi driver. So did Santosh Yadav when he arrived here five years ago along with his two brothers, who settled for well-paying jobs in companies.
Till a few months ago, Yadav took home Rs 300-400 by plying his rented Fiat in Lower Parel area that houses one of the largest malls and offices of MNCs, financial services and media companies, and doing 3-4 long distance evening trips every day. But today, he finds it difficult to pay the daily car rental of Rs 250 and another Rs 150 for gas. With companies slashing their travel budgets to keep costs down, Yadav keeps idling most of the time in Lower Parel and barely manages to do one long distance trip.
Being a migrant and a taxi driver in Mumbai hasn’t been a pleasant experience for Yadav. Already, the backlash against migrants has left a bad taste in his mouth. And now, the slowdown has hit where it hurts most: Rs 150-200 is all he takes home today.
Ravi Gupta, Kamal Negi and Anu Anand
Profession, Junior Artistes
Along with a record number of films, some of India’s costliest movies (with budgets of Rs 50 crore and above) were made during 2006-2008. And while stars salaries reached astronomical heights, the good times proved generous for junior artistes like Kamal, Anu and Ravi as well: They had enough work to keep the wheels of their daily lives and that of their families rolling smoothly. But that was till a few months ago.
Today, they anxiously call up their agents every few hours to ask if there are any assignments for them for the next day. This is so because work is becoming increasingly scarce, with production houses slashing budgets or even projects or seeking greener pastures in regional cinema where the cost of production is much lower. According to Pappu Lekhraj, the tinsel town’s favourite supplier of junior artistes, production houses are now demanding fewer artistes for a crowd scene—from 100 earlier, each is making do with just 60-65 these days.
The anxieties of the trio, whom this reporter met on the outdoor sets of a teleserial at Film City, are understandable. They are paid a paltry Rs 500 for a day’s work and Rs 100-200 more if it’s a film shoot or if they deliver a dialogue. And in that amount, they have to pay for conveyance and their wardrobe and make-up kit. And so, they must have work every day. The hardship has spurred their survival instincts: Kamal has brushed up her tailoring skills and Ravi has sent his family back to his hometown in Uttar Pradesh.
A Bad Brush
Ram Chandra S. Pol, 47 years
Profession, Labour Contractor
The boom in real estate over the past few years had catapulted labour contractors like Ram Chandra S. Pol effectively into the middleclass bracket, as far as their income was concerned. And in Ram Chandra’s case, it was reflected in the spotless white dress that he wore daily despite being in the business of paints.
Today, Ram Chandra still dresses the same way, but risks sullying his clothes as he goes around the murky bylanes of Mumbai scouting for new clients. With fewer Mumbaikars renovating their houses and a far lesser number buying new houses, Ram Chandra’s business is down 65 per cent over the past two months and his income has fallen from Rs 20,000 to Rs 5,000-6,000.
Earlier, when orders were flowing in regularly, Ram Chandra used to deploy his labour force of 32 at 6-8 sites. But nowadays, when the order flow has shrunk to just 2-3, he has been forced to reduce his workforce to 22. And since there still isn’t enough work for his charge, he has allowed some of them to go on leave and some others to work for other contractors.
The slowdown is taking its toll on Ram Chandra in another way. He cannot afford to lose his workforce howsoever bad the times may be. He will need them when the economy picks up again. And so, he has no option but to fork out Rs 6,000 every month to retain them. “Even if I don’t have any work for them, I need to earn the loyalty of the skilled ones by giving them a monthly income,” he says wistfully.
