Delhiwale: At home

Ms Champa Devi says Jimiya (dog) was the size of her hatheli (palm) when he appeared on the street a year ago. The dog’s mother was nowhere to be seen, so Ms Devi started giving the pup “some food and some water” everyday. Within days he moved into her shelter, “and now he thinks it is his ghar.”

The pavement is cracked. Some of the tiles have loosened. A wooden bed is plonked along a portion of this damaged pavement. A roof has been improvised upon the bed with sheets of plastic and cardboard.

Ms Champa Devi with her dog Jimiya in her shelter.

This contraption constitutes the permanent living arrangement of Champa Devi. This cold evening she is sitting quietly on the bed, here on Ansari Road. She is partly covered in a shawl and partly in a blanket. Towards her feet, a brown dog is curled up under another blanket. He is asleep. Ms Devi is staring at him, her eyes barely blinking. She herself is still. She calls this bed her ghar, her home, admitting in the next breath that “it does not look like a house, but what can I say.” She straightens her back and again becomes still.

“The dog lives with me,” she says. “I call him Jimiya.”

Ms Devi is not certain of her age. “I’m very old.” She spreads out her hands, pointing at the wrinkles as credible evidence of her advanced years. Gesturing towards the dog, she says, “But Jimiya is very young. He was the size of my hatheli (palm) when he appeared on the street a year ago.” The dog’s mother was nowhere to be seen, so Ms Devi started giving the pup “some food and some water” everyday. Within days he moved into her shelter, “and now he thinks it is his ghar.”

Just behind her bed is another, with a similar roof strung with a mosquito net. A much younger man is ensconced inside, reading a newspaper. “I do not know him,” says Ms Devi. In any case, the details of her past have grown dim, she says. Though she remembers that she arrived in Delhi “many, many years ago” from the town of Dhanbad. “All the people who belonged to me have gone away… my parents, my brothers, my sisters, my husband, my… I’m alone, in garmi and in sardi.” She again gazes upon Jimiya, growing silent. Jimiya continues to sleep. After some minutes, the dog opens his eyes, but remains motionless.