In Delhi, a Masjid and Gurudwara come together to feed workers starved by COVID-19 lockdown

03 April 2020
Aslam Chaudhury, Harbans Singh and Surendar Singh cook for migrant workers left hungry by the COVID-19 lockdown in the premises of the Kalu Sarai mosque. Between 600 and 700 food packets are made by them for migrants in Shahpur Jat, Hauz Khas village, Mehrauli, Begumpur and Kalu Sarai.
Shahid Tantray For The Caravan
Aslam Chaudhury, Harbans Singh and Surendar Singh cook for migrant workers left hungry by the COVID-19 lockdown in the premises of the Kalu Sarai mosque. Between 600 and 700 food packets are made by them for migrants in Shahpur Jat, Hauz Khas village, Mehrauli, Begumpur and Kalu Sarai.
Shahid Tantray For The Caravan

A mosque and a gurudwara have come together in south Delhi’s Kalu Sarai neighbourhood to feed migrant workers driven to hunger by the COVID-19 lockdown. Every morning since 30 March, Harbans Singh and Surendar Singh, two volunteers from the Gurudwara Shri Singh Sabha in Kalu Sarai village, have been going to the nearby mosque, at 9 am. By that time, Aslam Chaudhury and a small group of people from the neighbourhood have already brought out a bag of rice from the storeroom, started cutting vegetables and sorting masalas. Onions, tomatoes, potatoes, beans, carrots and green peas have to be peeled and chopped, the ginger and garlic have to be ground in mixers into a fine paste and the oil needs to be readied. The menu remains broadly the same every day—mixed vegetable pulao, though on a day-to-day basis some of the vegetables may change. Soya bean chunks replace carrots and beans, or instead they prepare khichri with dal. “Rice is easy to cook and pack and the pulao is nutritious,” Chaudhury said. It needs to be so, he said, if the aim is to feed the hungry in slum clusters or labourers scattered in across Delhi who have will not have any other meal for the day.

On 24 March, Prime Minister Narendra Modi announced a 21-day nationwide lockdown to combat the spread of COVID-19. Reports started emerging the following day, of thousands of labourers beginning to walk hundreds of miles from urban centres such as Delhi and Mumbai, to their homes in neighbouring states. In such cities, people without fixed incomes—daily-wage labourers, residents of slums and blue-collar workers—saw their wages drying up as businesses, factories and small-scale manufacturing units closed down. News reports suggest a crisis of unemployment and hunger unfolding in these cities. The Delhi government has since announced some steps, such as setting up 500 hunger relief centres to feed 4 lakh people and starting hunger helplines. In several parts of the national capital, civil-society groups, individuals and religious institutions such as temples, mosques and gurudwaras are struggling to take up the responsibility of feeding thousands of workers. These are efforts that lack the scale and reach that the government can provide.

“The situation is very bad,” Chaudhury said when I met him on 31 March, at the mosque. “I have been getting desperate calls from Mehrauli, Hauz Khas village, Begumpur”—all localities of south Delhi—“for food.” Chaudhury’s kitchen started on 26 March, two days after Modi made the lockdown announcement. He runs a mess and a catering business and is familiar with the process of cooking in large quantities. He had initially hired some people to cook for the migrants but was disappointed with the food they made. Speaking of the langar at the gurudwara nearby, he said, “The langar is shut, so I asked them if I could borrow their vessels. They agreed.” Chaudhury said the gurudwara sent him two large vessels—a cauldron that can cook 25 kilograms of rice and a smaller one that can hold up to 10 kilograms. The gurudwara also sent two cooks, who could help Chaudhury prepare the food. “What we are doing here is not very different from what we do in the langar,” Harbans Singh, the langar supervisor who had come along with Surendar Singh, the cook, said. “It is god’s grace and we will do seva”—community service— “as long as the lockdown continues.”

Chaudhury was cooking in his basement mess on the first day that the gurudwara staff joined him. As the basement was dark and cramped, the next day, they shifted the kitchen to the now-vacant mosque. The day I visited, 10 kilograms of potatoes, 7 kilograms of tomatoes and onions and 2.5 kilograms each of carrots, beans and peas had been readied by the time I arrived, at 10 am. The rice had been soaked in water and the cauldrons were being prepared. Surendar Singh, known throughout Kalu Sarai as Billa, was cooking. Billa works in a school and spends the rest of his time in the gurudwara’s langar. Since both had shut down, he was devoting his energies to Chaudhury’s kitchen. He constantly instructed the younger men, telling them how to cut and clean the vegetables, as Harbans supervised the process while sitting on a chair. Every 15 minutes, one of the men would reach out for a blue bottle of hand sanitiser nearby and pass it around. Everyone in the room was either wearing a mask or had a handkerchief tied around their face.

“COVID-19 is a disease that was brought into India by the passport-holders and now the ration card holders are suffering,” Chaudhury said. “I got a call from Indirapuram in Ghaziabad yesterday and we crossed over to deliver some packets of food.” Chaudhury and his team have three government-issue lockdown passes which allows them to pass through police road blocks. They also use an expensive sports utility vehicle on their food runs. “Have you ever seen the police stopping expensive vehicles or harassing the drivers?” Chaudhury asked. “It’s the poor who bear the brunt.” The boot of the vehicle is large enough to hold bags filled with food packets and dry rations, he added.

Tushar Dhara is a reporting fellow with The Caravan. He has previously worked with Bloomberg News, Indian Express and Firstpost and as a mazdoor with the Mazdoor Kisan Shakti Sangathan in Rajasthan.

Keywords: COVID-19 mosque Sikhism Islam migrant workers
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