Khadija Bai, poppadom-seller

hadija Bai, 70, lost her husband, a labourer, 18 years ago. Since then, she has lived with her youngest son, his wife and their three children while working as a housemaid in middle-class homes, cleaning rooms and washing dishes. Her life took another tragic turn three years ago when her son died unexpectedly. Determined to survive, Khadija started selling poppadoms (or papadums) on the streets of Khadda Market in Karachi’s Defence area.

“I am from the Memon community. We are known for making good paapars,” she says with a faint smile. Khadija travels daily from her home in North Karachi, near Godhra Camp and the Nala Bus Stop - a journey that takes an hour and a half, sometimes two, by bus. Despite the long commute and a cataract in her right eye, she continues to work. “What else can I do?” she says, her tone tinged with resignation, as she sits on the footpath outside a shop selling candy, expensive chocolates and imported dried fruits.

In front of her lie a variety of poppadoms spread out for sale, made from rice, chickpea, black gram or lentil flour. The rice-flour ones are prepared at home by her daughter-in-law. The rest are sourced from a Memon family near Meena Bazaar in Karimabad. She carefully packages them into clear plastic bags of five, six, or ten pieces, ready for buyers.

Khadija’s three older sons and three daughters are all married and live independently. “My daughter-in-law is very hard-working,” she says, her voice softening. “She works as a housemaid in Karimabad, earning Rs 10,000 a month. Before she leaves for work, she cooks for the children, who are old enough to heat the food themselves when they return from school. By the time their mother comes home, it’s already 4.00 pm.”

Khadija’s own routine begins at 10.00 am when she sets out for Khadda Market, returning home by 6.00 pm. “There’s no point in leaving earlier,” she explains. “The shops don’t open until around 11.30; and that’s when the shoppers arrive.” Her workday involves weaving through busy lanes and dodging traffic, standing most of the time. When exhaustion overtakes her, she finds a shady spot to rest.

Despite the hardships, Khadija takes pride in her independence. “I make at least Rs 400 a day,” she says, a note of satisfaction in her voice - a modest but vital income that sustains her dignity.

Abdul Habib Khan, food deliverer

In the whirlwind of modern life, where time is precious and lifestyles are ever-evolving, the quest for convenience has spurred a revolution in the food industry. Restaurants and fast-food eateries, recognising the need for swift solutions, have embraced the challenge of delivering culinary delights straight to the doorsteps of their patrons. Whether driven by the desire to avoid the kitchen or simply the reluctance to step out, customers now revel in the ease of placing orders through phone calls, online platforms, or the sleek interfaces of smartphone apps.

The transformation is not limited to the convenience of mealtime alone. A vibrant army of delivery boys adorned in their eye-catching uniforms, mounted on motorcycles equipped with specially designed boxes, deftly navigate through the bustling city streets at all hours of the day and night. The iconic tiffin carrier or dabbawala of yesteryear has gracefully made way for these food delivery heroes.

Among them is Abdul Habib Khan, a seasoned food delivery enthusiast employed by a prominent eatery. With a decade of experience under his belt, Khan reveals the intricacies of his daily routine, a twelve-hour shift that begins at 11.00 am and concludes at 11.00 pm. His domain encompasses two upscale neighbourhoods of the city, where, on an average, he makes twenty to thirty deliveries per day.

In the labyrinth of residential flats and sprawling villas, Abdul executes his mission with precision. A routine bell rings, met by the owner or a member of the domestic staff. The transaction is swift – delivery in exchange for the exact amount detailed on the bill, no room for credit. Beyond the realm of residences, Abdul extends his culinary courier service to offices and shops, a testament to the ever-expanding footprint of the food delivery revolution.

In the midst of sizzling curries and tantalising aromas, Abdul is not just a delivery man – he is bearer of joy, connecting the flavours of the kitchen with the eager taste buds of those who wait for the delights at their doorsteps. However, as he reflects on his decade-long journey zipping through traffic as a delivery man, he is unable to recall any extraordinary or untoward incidents. For him, it is a routine; a seamless flow of deliveries that are a part of his life.

“Besides my monthly salary, I get a commission on each order. If I am lucky, I collect a tip as well. It’s good. I am happy,” he says, stuffing the steaming hot biryani, hearty haleem, aromatic kunna, and sweet kheer and other delectable packages into the food box on his motorbike before scooting off, armed with a list of names and addresses for the next leg of his adventure.

The writer is an author, illustrator and educator. She may be reached at husain.rumana@gmail.com