Book Extract: This was not the Delhi Atim had dreamt about

Ngalatim Hongray does not remember the exact date of her momentous move to Delhi in October 2005, but she remembers vividly her last moments in Ukhrul before she set off. It was so long ago, but the memories of her first train journey are as clear as if it was just yesterday.

It was early in the morning. Ngalatim was the first in the family to wake up. She put some water to boil in a saucepan and then added some tea powder; she poured the tea out into three mugs. She carried out the phika chai for her parents, who had woken up and were sitting outside their one-room house, where the other six children slept in a heap. The air was crisp and cool; the three of them enjoyed the view of the distant mountains in silence.

Atim (the diminutive by which she was called) had finished her eleventh standard from Alice Christian Higher Secondary School in 2004. She still had a year of schooling left but had chosen to give it up because she could not bear the constant deprivation and poverty.

Atim decided to find work in Delhi. She had no idea what kind of work, just as long as she could earn and send money back home. Her father Ramyo was nearly eighty years old, and her mother Shimtharla was some thirty years younger than him. Ramyo had married her after his first wife, Ningmacham, had died.

Atim was the oldest child from the second marriage and she felt it was her responsibility to support her family. She felt angry that her parents had seven children, especially since her father had had nine children by his first wife. Of course she had not voiced this anger.

Atim wanted to go to Delhi because two of her nieces, Lemyaola and Mayori, were already working there. They were the daughters of Ramyo’s eldest daughter by his first wife. Mayori was older than Atim, but Lemyaola was her age and had promised to help find her a job in Delhi.

Lemyaola’s third sister, Hongreiwon, was a doctor practising in Ukhrul. Hongreiwon had promised to buy Atim tickets to Delhi on the condition she work at her older brother Khangam’s home in Ukhrul. Khangam and his wife Leena lived with their two small children; his wife was pregnant and so they needed help with the housework. For the past three months Atim had been living and working in Khangam’s home. She used to wake up early and make tea for the family, and then by nine in the morning she had Hongreiwon’s lunch of rice and curry ready, so she could eat before rushing off to the hospital where she worked. After that, Atim swept the three-room house, and washed the clothes. It was not hard work and she was treated well, but somehow she always felt somewhat diminished.

Atim had decided to come away for the night and be with her parents, her own family, where she felt she belonged. She took a sip of the tea and heard someone call out her name. It was Hongreiwon and she was in a tearing hurry.

‘Pack your clothes. I have booked your tickets on the morning bus tomorrow. We have found two girls going to Delhi. You can go with them.’

Atim had been waiting for this moment, but now that it had arrived she was overwhelmed by feelings she could not describe in words. But her father was calm. He handed her the money he had kept for the occasion. Several weeks ago, Ramyo had sold one of his goats for ₹1,500, which he gave his daughter. He had been trying to speak to Atim in English, as Hongreiwon had instructed, so that she would be more prepared for Delhi, but it did not seem natural. However, he was confident she would pick it up once she started work.

Atim packed her bag. She would be sleeping in Hongreiwon’s place that night and would take the bus early next morning. Her sisters and brothers were asleep, but she decided not to wake them up. It would make it even more difficult to leave. As she was going out of her home, her mother burst into tears.

Hongreiwon took Atim to meet the two young women who would be travelling to Delhi with her. They were two sisters who had studied in Jawahar Navodaya School with Lemyaola, Hongreiwon’s younger sister. The older sister was Glory and she was a nurse; Jacinta was working in a showroom in Lajpat Nagar.

Atim could not believe that it was finally happening. She could feel her heart beating fast. She had seen such wonderful photographs of Delhi in magazines; the one she remembered most was an advertisement of a posh restaurant with lots of people and a beautiful woman pouring coffee. Her stepsister, Lily, who was looking at the pictures, had told Atim that her daughter Masowon too worked in a place where she poured coffee for guests. It had sounded so grand.

Lily had shown her photos of Masowon dressed in her black uniform with a bright red collar and matching red lipstick. Just the thought that she could soon be wearing such a uniform had kept Atim awake.

Then Atim remembered the time when she had gone to wash clothes in her neighbour’s pond. They had no running water supply in their home. The neighbour was there and they had started chatting. She told Atim that her daughter Angel had told her that those girls who stay in Delhi only go out at night and that is the reason why they have such wonderful complexions.

But how do they go out in the dark?’ Atim had asked. Her home had no electricity. The older woman had told her that Delhi was all bright and lit up every night.

Atim did not sleep the night before she left. She had never experienced such excitement in her entire life of twenty years. She kept thinking of the photographs she had seen in Leena’s albums. Leena had worked in Delhi before she got married. There were photos of her outside the posh Benetton showroom in Connaught Place. It looked really out of this world. And then there was the magical world of the beauty parlour. Leena’s sister’s daughter had returned from Delhi looking like a model. She had dyed her hair burgundy and wore lots of make-up. Her skin was so smooth and fair. It was rumoured that she was earning ₹5,000 a month!

Next morning, Leena pressed ₹300 into Atim’s hand and bade her a safe journey. Atim hurried to the bus stop and found the two sisters waiting for her. It was early in the morning and the bus was already crowded. It took less than four hours on a winding road down the hills to reach Imphal, the capital of Manipur. From there they got a bus for Dimapur in Nagaland, another seven-hour journey.

On the bus, Glory recognized two Tangkhul men, one of whom was a journalist. Atim’s excitement had made her speechless. She was startled out of her stupor when Jacinta shook her shoulder and said, ‘Take a last look at the mountains. Later you will miss them.’ Jacinta had been in Delhi for three years…

The journalists had started eating with their hands, enjoying the hot beef curry and steaming rice. Atim picked up the spoon and felt proud that she managed to eat her meal with it.

The next day, the three women went to Dimapur’s famous Hong Kong market. Atim gaped with amazement when she saw the variety of footwear. All three women bought sandals; Atim chose a red pair. Jacinta assured her that the other things would be cheaper in Delhi’s Sarojini Nagar Market.

At night they caught the train to Guwahati. When they reached Guwahati station they bought Tinkle comics and settled down in a corner to wait for their train to Delhi, which would arrive late in the evening. Atim asked Jacinta to tell her about Delhi.

‘Delhi is full of people and buildings.’ Atim had seen cities in Jackie Chan movies and imagined Delhi would be full of tall, white, gleaming buildings over which helicopters flew, and broad clean streets.

‘Many Koreans come to my showroom. They find it difficult dealing with our money.’

‘Foreigners come to your showroom!’

‘Yes. I have a friend called Grace. She is very good at bargaining. She fights over every rupee but when we go to restaurants she gives big tips.’

By the time the train to Delhi pulled into the station, Atim’s excitement had reached its peak. She was going more than 2,000 kilometres away from Ukhrul, the only home she had ever known. They settled into the train. A Punjabi man in a turban was in the seat opposite Atim. He ate bananas and lotus fruit almost continuously and the women commented on his appetite in Tangkhul.

On the train, Jacinta taught Atim how to use Yahoo Messenger. She had a mobile phone which Lemyaola’s older sister Mayori had gifted her.

After a while, Atim asked Jacinta the question that had troubled her sometimes, ‘Is it safe for us in Delhi?’

She had heard a story from Tharayo, a friend from her yarnao about a girl from Nagaland who had gone to a shop in Delhi to have her pressure cooker mended. There she noticed that some men had followed her. They tried to molest her but she swung the pressure cooker and hit one of them before running out of the shop.

On another occasion, Atim had overheard a conversation between Hongreiwon and Mayori about how unsafe Delhi was for girls from the Northeast. Mayori had said girls should not wear shorts and wander around at night. Atim could not really understand all this talk, but she felt a nagging fear that she had not known before.

The movement of the train made Atim feel nauseous and she went to the toilet, but the smell made her feel even worse. The constant shaking and noise began to get unbearable. It was only the excitement of reaching her destination that kept her going for two nights. When Jacinta said Delhi was nearing she peered out of the window but could not see any brightly lit buildings.

The Old Delhi railway station was crowded and Atim could barely walk in a straight line. ‘This is Delhi,’ Jacinta called out to her as she made an effort to keep up with the other two. It was late in the evening and they took an auto-rickshaw.

As they drove through the streets of Delhi, Atim felt a deep disappointment; it was so dark and smelly. Finally, when they arrived at Kotla Mubarakpur and the auto turned into a narrow alley, it seemed even darker than Ukhrul. They lugged their bags up the steep staircase to a small room on the first floor. The room was bare; there was a fridge but it had nothing in it and they had to go downstairs to buy vegetables and cook their dinner. There was not even a cupboard. Everything was piled on open cement shelves. There were no beds, and the three flopped down on mattresses and slept. This was not the Delhi Atim had dreamt about.

Excerpt taken from Nandita Haskar’s book, The Exodus is not Over, with permission from Speaking Tiger.

Pages 271; Rs 315