Bicycles laden with kachori sabzi. Paanwallahs with their carefully curated display of betel leaves smeared with lime. Sabziwallahs and their familiar high-pitched cry of aloo bees rupay kilo. Kulfiwallahs with carts carrying a large red box full of iced goodies.
From traffic signals to dimly lit lanes of shanty neighbourhoods, the metropolitan of Delhi is a vibrant canvas painted with street vendors in every nook and corner. They form the very heart of the national capital with their brisk business in Chandni Chowk, Sadar Bazar, Sarojini Nagar and even the hub of the affluent Khan Market.
Street vendors are an integral part of the urban informal economy, offering access to goods and services to low-income background populations. Low levels of skills and minimum start-up capital contribute as the major factors to the ever-increasing number of street vendors who form around 2% of the total population of Indian cities.
From items of daily use like fruits, meat and vegetables to goods of occasional needs, i.e. readymade garments and home appliances, street vendors cater to the urban populace in more ways than one. However, often viewed as an eyesore, a nuisance, and an encroacher of public space, their existence is precariously tied to the whims and fancies of those in power.
Planned dispossessions
The scarce data available on the number of street vendors in Delhi is contested. While the MCD figures count about 1,25,000 legal vendors (Self Employed Women’s Association), SEWA Delhi estimates that the capital accommodates close to 3,00,000 street vendors. It is argued that the proliferation of street vendors leads to vehicular traffic congestion.
A glaring inconvenience to pedestrians and commuters, time and again, measures have been adopted to evict street vendors to clear roads and pavements. In the wake of the G20 summit in September this year, hundreds of street vendors were forced to shut shop for days on end to ostensibly ‘beautify’, declutter and regulate the traffic on the Mathura road, Kamla Nagar and the area around Raj Ghat for the smooth movement of dignitaries.
The plight of the poor, unheard street vendors has borne the brunt of gentrification drives in the past as well. As the nation applauded India’s winning spree in the Commonwealth Games being held in the spruced-up capital in 2010, street vendors in the market of Sarojini Nagar were brutally evicted as they were branded a “major security risk”.
Mohanlal, a bhel puri seller near Hindu College in Sudhir Bose Marg, Delhi, shared, “I have been selling bhel puri here for the past 32 years and earn around 700-800 rupees per day. I was asked by the MCD to vacate this area from 28 August. For around 15-20 days, I lost business. During the Commonwealth games too, I was asked to leave. MCD wale dukaan hatane ko kehte hain tou manna toh parta hai, desh ke liye (The MCD officials ask us to shut shop; we have to oblige for the good of the country). “
Who is the God of Small Things?
The informal nature of work pushes street vending to the fringes of legality, making redressal and compensation for vendors a distant dream. Laws fresh on paper, hardly segue into reality.
Owing to the persistent efforts of the National Association of Street Vendors (NASVI), the cabinet of India adopted the National Policy on Street Vendors in 2009, which recognised street vendors as an integral and legitimate part of the urban retail trade and distribution system.
The Street Vendors (Protection of Livelihood and Regulation of Street Vending) Act 2014 brought street vending into the ambit of law, authorising street vendors with a Certificate of Vending. The act allowed a participatory governance framework led by Town Vending Committees (TVCs) with the Municipal Commissioner and elected vendor representatives to issue licenses, conduct timely meetings and maintain records of registered vendors. The act states that street vendors cannot be relocated or evicted by a local authority without a 30-day notice.
While the act is a commendable effort on behalf of the Parliament, it is not without its flaws. In spite of many deliberations in the TVCs where vendors have pushed for a comprehensive survey to identify and register street vendors, there has been a bureaucratic lethargy and rigidness in the demarcation of Hawking Zones. The first and only census that the Municipal Corporation of Delhi conducted to map the number of Street vendors was back in 2021. It is only now that the MCD has been directed by the Department of Urban Development to oversee a fresh survey and create a database of vendors. Failure to conduct surveys and issue licenses has not only resulted in overcrowding of market spaces but also led to conflict between vendors.
The “Report on the Conditions of Work and Promotion of Livelihoods” by the National Commission for Enterprises in the Unorganized Sector reads ‘‘The lack of recognition of the role of street vendors culminates in a multitude of problems faced by them such as obtaining licenses, insecurity of earnings, … gratifying officers and muscle-men, constant eviction threats…”
Unauthorised evictions and harassment at the hands of the Municipal Corporation of Delhi and the Police leave vendors in a lurch. Forced to cough up bribes for operational ease or relocate, they get trapped in a vicious cycle of debt. A string of suicides that are reduced to page 6 news reports stand as testimonials to the jarring state of helplessness and destitution for India’s urban poor.
Yeh vaada raha…?
Political Parties in the capital have, time and again, made a litany of promises to street vendors ahead of MCD polls. Promises to issue licenses, form redressal committees, provide compensation and regularise weekly markets. Reckless promises, conveniently forgotten.
“I have been trying to apply for a license for years now, but the MCD never issues me one, citing missing documents. Without a licence, we are at the mercy of the land mafia and police. We pay them the weekly commission to claim our piece of land,” Raj Kumar, a fruit vendor in Old Delhi, said.
The streets have always been the melting pot of social intercourse, commerce, camaraderie and political action. Those in power seek to expand their space and grossly reduce the poorest to crippling corners. As industries, shops and automobiles demand additional lanes and parking space, vendors are squeezed out of the streets.
Whilst the ever-soaring population of Delhi clamours for public space, it would be prudent to note that it is the poorest who make the public. The vendors. Cobblers. Bangle sellers. Daily wage labourers. Rickshaw pullers. Why is it that time and again, it is the livelihood of the poor that is torn apart to find a quick fix to a problem that runs deep? Why must the poor be left to fend for themselves, churned in a quest to “clean” the cities? The socialist vein of the constitution rings hollow.
While we celebrate the unparalleled rise of India in the global forum of G20, street vendors remain hidden from plain sight, corralled inside slums plastered with green screens lest the nuisance of the poor is visible to the esteemed dignitaries. We must wake up from our slumber of ignorance and heed the hitherto neglected crisis at hand.
Recognising the need for affirmative action, in August 2021, India’s Parliamentary Standing Committee on Urban Development submitted a report to the Parliament on implementing the Street Vendors (Protection of Livelihood and Regulation) Act.
It made suggestions including, setting up a centralised database of cases of eviction and relocation of street vendors; advising Urban Local Bodies to identify vacant spaces near parks, community centers, etc. and demarcate and notify them as vending zones/markets; creating and promote inclusive and accommodative urban development schemes that regard street vending as a core component of city planning, giving them due space and recognition.
There is a need to train vendors to play an assertive and decisive role in urban local bodies. Lastly, we need to shed the societal apathy and disdain that views vendors as a threat to pedestrians rather than as active enablers of the urban economy. If we tap into the potential of the informal sector and provide workers with legal safeguards, we can truly make a difference for India’s poorest.
Featured image is for representational purposes only.
This story has been written as part of the My City Writers’ Training Program.