Unheralded corona warriors

Roopinder Singh

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The booming voice greets you cheerily: ‘Good morning, Sir!’ Spotless white clothes, a tan Nehru jacket and an erect bearing, Sher Singh is an early-morning fixture around our neighbourhood. Only nowadays, he also sports a green surgical mask as he wields his long-handled broom to sweep aside leaves that fall on the roads and sidewalks of our street.

He came to Chandigarh from Saharanpur 40 years ago. Like so many others who came in at that time, he worked in various houses and eventually got the government job he so desired. During this time, he raised four children, and they rose according to their abilities; one of them is an officer, he proudly narrates.

Rain or storm, fall or winter, he is there to sweep away the debris and ensure that the street under his charge remains spotless. The pride that he takes in his work is visible, and thus everyone endures the ticking he gives when others fail to measure up to his standard.

‘Good morning, Sir,’ said another voice. It belongs to Nagesh, who was on a motorcycle, delivering our morning papers. Not the easiest person to recognise, clad as he was in a jacket, his face covered, helmet over a mask and thick gloves covering his hand.

The voice is so familiar — I have known him since his childhood, seen him as a schoolboy. He started supplementing the family income by taking up a small newspaper route from Aditya, who, in the early 2000s, had moved from delivering media physically to helping create content for a news channel that had just opened its office in Chandigarh.

What was not familiar was the sound that was coming from the bike. He had a puncture, and the tyre was squealing because of lack of air. The situation was soon remedied with an electric pump reinflating the tyre, and Nagesh was off to deliver the pile of newspapers that he had on his bike.

Just before he left, my better half asked: ‘Why are parts of Sector 19 not getting newspapers?’ A little uncomfortable, Nagesh, admitted that some vendors were not picking them up, but more and more were now getting on board. ‘I have always been there, Ma’am,’ said he, proudly.

Soon after that, Raju, the milkman, came. We had been wondering if he would, since yesterday he had been overheard admitting: ‘Bhaiya, one is scared with all this.’ Yet, there he was, delivering the much-needed milk to every household on his route. Naturally, he too had taken precautions, as did those who were taking milk from him. Soon, Satbir would come to pick up the garbage….

These are the unheralded corona warriors. They are ensuring a degree of normalcy in the lockdown. I asked Sher Singh how come he was there today too. ‘I am here every day, except my off, and I will be there every day —it’s my duty.’ He has the gift of the gab, this one. And he said it on behalf of all those whose sweep of duty makes them battle with their demons to provide for us even as we all fight the invisible enemy.