In the once busy suburban village of Doddagubbi, located outside Kothanur in Bengaluru, stands two lone vegetable stands on Varalakshmi Vratam, one of the biggest festivals celebrated in this village. Last year, the village was packed with vendors, patrons, worshippers and all the buses that were supposed to pass through Doddagubbi had to find alternate routes. 

Of course, one looks at it in a positive light where they believe that they were taking measures to follow Covid-19 guidelines. However, this is also the same village that doesn’t believe in the use of masks and had regular markets throughout the pandemic. 

What could be keeping them from celebrating one of their most celebrated festivals? The sole reason is that Covid-19 wiped out almost one-fourth of the population of Doddagubbi, not only physically but also financially. 

 

The residents of Doddagubbi engage mainly in the sale of food items- vegetables, fruit, and homemade goods. The main areas where they sell their goods are at the city markets - KR Market, Majestic, and Chickpet. The pandemic caused all of these markets to cease functioning because they were high-risk zones and all forms of public transport also stopped. 

 

Nagesh (name changed) says in a resigned tone that he had to send his wife and two children back to his home village in Tamil Nadu because he had no money to support them here. He used to sell samosas, holige, and hot beverages in Shivaji Nagar every day, taking the first bus at 6 a.m. and returning home at 6.p.m. He remained unemployed for the first 4 months of the pandemic after which he took up arranging fruit cartons for a local fruit stand. “It’s not much but at least my family is okay”, Nagesh says as he moves some pineapples onto a cart.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                               A young man poses in front of his vegetable shop                                           A shopkeeper arranges his produce

 

 

 

 

“Our school closed down because our teachers died”, said Kulli and Raja, “so now we have to sell vegetables here”. They seem cheerful, excited as they ask me to take a nice picture of them.

 

 

Suresh (name changed) says that his father passed away because of Covid-19 and his mother is too physically weak to take over the family bakery. Therefore, his uncle and his family have taken it over. He currently runs the fruit stand in the village which is his family’s sole source of income and the only thing that will pay his mother’s medical bills.

Whether he gets the bakery back is completely out of his control because a widow and a fifteen-year-old boy hardly ever are the winners in stories like this. 

 A group of men about the effect the Covid-19 pandemic has had on them and they tell me their concerns almost immediately. Knowledge about the vaccine is veiled in false facts and assumptions. The police only come to the village to make sure nobody is selling anything non-essential. Their stalls have been damaged and they have been lathi-charged in the past. 

 

Most of the inhabitants of the village have exhausted their meager savings, with no vacancy in the job spheres anywhere to replenish what they have lost. The entire village has an air of desperation and gloom around it, an area that was once lively and bursting with energy now just an empty shell of its former self. However, things are different in the heart of the village; the building of a grand temple continues steadily.

 

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