A double whammy for women in informal sector

“Everyone has to eat, whether the air is clean or not,” the vegetable vendor tells me. And so, heatwave or cold spell; unseasonal rains or air crisis, her routine never changes: Wake up at 4 am, stock up on the day’s supplies at the wholesale vegetable market at Ghazipur and tend to her thela (cart) from 8 am to 8 pm.

Prices are offered in terms of 250gm. After all, who can afford tomatoes at ₹60 a kg? When a customer asks for a kilo of ginger, she instinctively weighs 250 gm and then laughs at her mistake. It’s for ginger tea, the customer tells me; her family drinks copious amounts of it, especially when temperatures dip and pollution levels rise.

Everyone at Sunder Nagri knows about pradushan (pollution). They can feel it in their throats and in their eyes. But life goes on because it must.

One of Delhi’s earlier resettlement colonies during the Emergency of 1975, Sunder Nagri has quite a pedigree. It’s where Arvind Kejriwal started his NGO, Parivartan in the 2000s and from where he launched his protest against high power tariffs in 2013. On Wednesday, the day I visited, there was a buzz in the air because Delhi chief minister Aatishi was due to visit the family of a murder victim. MCD workers briskly swept up the garbage, and in the bylanes outside the shops selling readymade garments, plastic toys, and electrical goods, there was chatter about the murder. Very little was said about the other crime that is claiming lungs and health.

Government solutions trotted out every year when pollution levels reach critical levels seem to be oblivious to the reality of the lives of the poor and the marginalised: The construction worker for whom there is no compensation for days lost. The advice to work from home that is untenable for anyone who lives cramped in a jhuggi. With schools shut down, the kids in Sunder Nagri are left to play outdoors.

“It is claustrophobic inside the house,” one housewife says. Her tiny home houses 10 people, including two married sons and their families. “All I want is a bit of ventilation, so I go up to the terrace and sit there most of the time.”

The domestic worker, street vendor, waste picker, construction worker, informal transport worker is integral to the functioning of the city. Informal workers make up 90% of employment in India, notes WIEGO (Women in Informal Employment: Globalizing and Organizing). In Delhi, it’s 81.5% for male workers; among women, 76.4%.

“The people who contribute the least to the air pollution crisis pay the heaviest price,” says Avinash Chanchal, deputy programme director for Greenpeace South Asia.

The health implications of breathing noxious air is felt by everyone. But its impact is not uniform. Those who live in Sunder Nagri cannot afford air purifiers. They do not commute in cars equipped with filters. They do not live in homes from where they can work, or their children can easily study. They certainly cannot migrate to hill stations and beach resorts, waiting till it is safe to return.

Women bear a disproportionate impact. New research finds that the impact of breathing polluted air is more severe for women than men. Many already have weakened respiratory systems caused by cooking on wood or cow dung. There are implications for mental health. Pregnant women are vulnerable to miscarriage and delivering low-birth-weight babies. When a woman falls ill and cannot do the household work, it is the eldest daughter who will step up and take over her role.

At Sunder Nagri, the women are aware of this but say they don’t really have a choice. All they can do is hope for the weather to change, the air to improve, and carry on as always.

Namita Bhandare writes on gender. The views expressed are personal

Get Current Updates on…

See more