July 9, Thursday, 6.40 pm On the playground of a Chennai Corporation middle school in Broadway in North Chennai, men in masks and dhotis l...
July 9, Thursday, 6.40 pm
On the playground of a Chennai Corporation middle school in Broadway in North Chennai, men in masks and dhotis lined up in front of a vat to be served dinner on flimsy paper plates.
A stout Tamil man with a blue tag that identified him as a municipal corporation official used a small plate to scoop and deposit mounds of what looked like vegetable pulao on their plates. Job done, the official started his bike and drove out.
The men, meanwhile, stood on the red earth, finishing their meal. Others lounged on the playground slide, on the steps, playing with their phones, chatting amongst themselves. Some filled water bottles, others took out their frustrations on their children.
Temporary occupants of this school turned migrant shelter, the men, a few with their families, had been living at the shelter for a few days to a few weeks. They were drivers, furniture makers, masons, painters and other skilled workers from Uttar Pradesh, Bihar, Madhya Pradesh and Orissa, who had moved to Chennai for work, but were now desperate to go back.
Over 100 days since India first went into lockdown on March 25, these 90 migrants were still waiting for news of a...
