“I’ve been driving rickshaws for four years now,” said Sarda as she proudly showed me her plastic-laminated license. I had to strain to hear her as we rode through the clamour and commotion of central Jaipur. It was a scorching thirty-seven degrees and thick dust rose up from the road as she carefully drove us through the city streets. She began to tell me the story of how she became one of only a handful of women auto-rickshaw drivers in Rajasthan’s capital city.
My father fell in with some bad people and we lost our land
Sarda is a member of the Meena tribal community, a Scheduled Tribe, traditionally employed in agricultural work in Rajasthan and neighbouring states. In theory, they benefit from protections and quotas in education and employment, but legislation does not always reflect reality and many tribal communities struggle to retain ownership of their land due to major development schemes. Social problems can also bring catastrophe. “My family had land and my parents grew and sold vegetables,” said Sarda. "But my father fell in with some bad people, became a drinker and we lost our land.”
Like many others, Sarda and her immediate family moved to the city in search of more opportunities. But again, they faced severe difficulties. "When we moved to Jaipur, the cost of accommodation for me, my husband and our two sons was very high. I needed to find work to help with household costs. I never went to school because I had to work when I was a child, so my opportunities are limited. For a while I worked in a hospital as a housekeeper. My supervisor made things difficult for me and wanted money (bribes) for me to keep my job, so I left. One day I saw a woman driving a rickshaw and I thought perhaps I could do that.”
Majboori
Once again, a financial challenge presented itself. “I had to borrow 50,000 rupees to buy a vehicle,” she said. She lacked the documentation required by traditional banks and so turned to a private lender. Sarda believed the interest rate was 36% - significantly higher than that charged by a bank - but in fact it was even higher. She repaid 8,000 rupees a month for 18 months, more than double the initial loan.
I asked her if such an extortionate rate was normal. She replied with one word: “majboori” - a Hindi word meaning helpless and of having no other option. And it is a word that describes the reality for millions who depend on the mercy of local sharks.
I was curious about how she felt when she began this work. “Very, very nervous,” she said. “I had one accident too. A car hit my rickshaw and turned it over with me underneath it. I had some minor injuries but my passengers were unhurt.” I wondered if Sarda enjoyed being a driver. “I couldn’t say that I enjoy it,” she said, "but it means we can live and that I have a regular income.” Her husband and her brother also work as auto-rickshaw drivers.
Sarda still faces barriers in securing that income. She is one of very few women doing this work in Jaipur and her situation reminded me of Noor Jehan, a rickshaw wali I met in Bangladesh a few years ago. I asked Sarda if the male rickshaw drivers accept her on the road. “Some do, but others prevent me from picking up passengers in the main tourist areas, so I miss out on fees and potential tips,” she said. Finding work is one thing, breaking down deeply entrenched gender prejudices is something else.
Free from problems, free from worries
I sat in the back of the rickshaw, sweating profusely due to the extreme heat and humidity, keenly aware that Sarda endures these conditions from 9AM to 7PM every day. As we reached our destination, I had one final question - what are her hopes for the future of her two teenage sons? Her ambition was for them to live a life different from hers. “I want them to be happy, free from problems, free from worries,” she said.
You might also like The Rickshaw Woman of Kamalapur
If you connected with Sarda’s story, you can find more portraits of daily life, resilience and humanity across Asia in my recent book Stories from elsewhere. The book features photographs and narratives from my journeys through India, Bangladesh, Cambodia and Vietnam.
Explore or buy Stories from elsewhere here.
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