The daily cycle of Ganesan’s life

“Aluminiya paathiram [aluminium utensils]!

“Whatever sound my body can give, I use it. I don’t use speakers. It is all my breath.

“My name is Ganesan. I sell things I carry on my bicycle. I feed my children by selling these household items made of plastic, and metal utensils. We must sell a few [water] pitchers to eat today. Let’s move!”

I met Ganesan in Kanadukathan near Karaikudi. I was looking to document a person’s story through photographs. The day I met him, the 61-year-old had travelled to Kothamangalam village. He readily agreed to my request, with a big smile.

I spent the next six days with him, arriving at his home in Nagaram village at 6 a.m., and following him through the day as he cycled across the district. Despite the long and physically exhausting day, he never showed the slightest sign of strain or fatigue on his face or in his body language.

Carrying a full load and cycling down village paths is not easy. Main roads are not a problem, but the paths leading into villages are usually rough, gravelly, dirt tracks; shortcuts involve going up and down canal banks, and paths are very narrow and difficult to navigate smoothly with a loaded cycle. I had to be careful not to fall from my motorcycle.

Ganesan told me he cycles a minimum of 10 to 15 kilometers in a day. And he carries 15 to 20 kilos of weight in the way of aluminium utensils and other items to sell. He travels from his village Nagaram, north to Pullanviduthy, west to Pudukkottai and so on to over 50 villages and towns of Tamil Nadu’s Pudukkottai district, on his cycle.

The pedal cycle is his daily companion, his most trusted aide.

“One side of the seat is broken,” he says, looking at his vehicle and laughing it off. “[But] cycle is what suits me. I know how to ride a [motor] bike, but I won’t buy one. I go and come only on my cycle. It has become a habit.” Once in Merpanaikkadu he had a flat tire, but he says instead of spending Rs. 30 on repairing the tube, he chose to wheel it back – a journey of 7-8 kilometres. “The second I arrived; I changed the tube myself.”

A motorbike will add to his expenses – he estimates around Rs. 50 to 100 will be spent on petrol. “But with a cycle, even if I fall, I can somehow pedal it home,” he tells me. “[Motor] bikes are also a bit scary – if I fall, it might ruin the products, they might break. The capital [invested] will go to waste. So I go around in the cycle, at my own pace.”

Ganesan has been cycling since the 1980s. “I never take leave. Even if I have a headache or a fever, I take a tablet and cycle away, I have never stopped. If there are any family functions, I ask my other family members to go, I stay with my cycle. I can sleep well at night only if I cycle at least 15 to 20 kilometers. I feel free in my body when I cycle. I have no ailments.

When Ganesan is returning home with a full load, he must be vigilant. “The glare from the oncoming vehicle's lights hit me and I cannot focus. So, I have lost my balance and fallen while dismounting or after dismounting and standing still too.”

Born in Ammapatti, a village in Sattur taluk of Virudhunagar district, Ganesan’s father died when he was just seven years old. The family, from the Maravar community (listed as De-Notified Tribe), moved to Nagaram, a village of roughly 1,000 people, near Keeramangalam in Pudukkottai district. He was 17 years old at that time.

Of the three brothers, Ganesan is the middle child; his elder brother is in Sattur Ammapatti, Virudhunagar, and the younger brother is in Keeramangalam – he owns a tempo which he uses to buy and sell metal scraps.

“If my father was there, we could have gone to school and reached higher places, but we didn’t,” he reminisces. “I failed Class 2 twice in consecutive years.” “If I had studied, I would be in a better position today.” I often remember those words, and I hope anyone who reads this will also remember the words of this hardworking man on the importance of education.

His lack of schooling, and the fact that he has no land to fall back on, has made Ganesan keen on children being educated. He has taken several bank loans amounting to a few lakhs for his elder daughter’s education. Even now he is paying them back as much as he can manage. Muthumari, 35, his eldest daughter, did a BSc in Nursing, and has a central government job in Thiruvarangulam. He is happy that she earns well and says the Rs. 5,000 she sends home keeps the family going.

Ganesan arranged the marriage of his son, offering the girl four gold sovereigns since her family could not afford it. The young couple live with them. Both his older children are earning and often request him to stop working, but he is determined to work to pay for his youngest child’s education and marriage.

Chitradevi is Ganesan’s wife. The 55-year-old dropped out of school in Class 5, and is a daily wage worker, taking up MNREGA work. She returns home from work around 2 p.m., and cooks for the family. “We don't have lunch. Only breakfast and dinner. He only takes food in the morning and at night. He doesn’t have lunch. Instead, he drinks only water for lunch,” Chitradevi tells me.

“At around 9-10 in the morning I take my cycle and go from village to village. I return home by six o'clock. While selling, I also buy up old items and sell them later for scrap. The money is for my children. We don’t own a house. We have been living in my wife’s house for all these years. After this, it's my children who can earn and build a house, until then we will be renting this one.”

Ganesan times his arrival in the village to match his customers who may be doing MNREGA work, and get free only after 2 p.m. On Sundays he returns later than usual, around 7 p.m., as the sun is setting. He doesn’t carry a mobile phone, so “some days my wife gets worried and will be standing on the road, waiting for me.”

“People know me well.”

I saw the deep affection Ganesan shows his customers, and the way he speaks to everyone. In all the days I spent with him, I never saw him speak harshly to anyone. Ganesan told me he respects his relationships with his customers, and it is that which has allowed him to continue doing business for over 40 years.

Ganesan is called ‘nagarathaar’ – a resident of Nagaram, by people of the villages he visits. He knows all the cycle paths inside villages, and he says people wait for his weekly trip. There are some who only buy from him. He doesn’t encourage bargaining. “I sell if they can pay the price, or I just don’t sell. If I buy a thing for 100 rupees and sell it for at least 10 rupees profit, then I go ahead, otherwise I stop.

“The shop from which I buy is New Deluxe in Aranthagi, Pudukkottai district. I will always buy goods from the same shop and will not go to other shops. In 1980, they gave me goods worth 1,400 rupees. Now, the value of those goods is around 7,000 rupees.” Ganesan says his average daily income is around Rs. 200, but there are days on which he makes no sales and no earnings.

On his travels through villages, Ganesan picks up old iron and plastic, used aluminium utensils, old copperware, old silverware, rubber products, old bicycles, plastic and glass bottles, tin and more. He collects these over 2-3 months, “in a sack in a corner of my house. I can’t sell them for weight every day, that would give me very less profit. If the scrap adds up to 20 to 80 kilos, then I take it to the shop I purchase things from. If I take them to my procurement shop, plastics sell for 20-22 rupees, while in scrap shops they take them for 15 rupees. That is a 5-rupee loss for me. I don’t receive cash anywhere.”

Ganesan does not like cash deals when he sells scrap, as he believes that cash doesn’t last with him, but items do. “I always take it as things [utensils], never cash. I never take cash home. I always get the equivalent worth of utensils and plastic pitchers. If I sell aluminium scraps, I take aluminium vessels back. In most shops, it is usually me who pays the shop for the new things, I never take the money. If I buy things instead of cash, they will stay and I can always sell them, no one can touch it.”

The only time he pays cash is when the amount is Rs. 100. Anything more, he says he doesn’t have with him. “If they ask for 500 or 1,000 rupees, there I will not take their things [scrap]. I cannot take them, and I also cannot carry all that on my cycle. I only take what fits on my cycle.”

He changes his modus operandi if there is a cycle for sale and he can pay for items other than cash. He repairs the cycles and sells them at a profit of Rs. 20 to school students.

“I go the next day to get the cycle. That is how I got these 5-6 cycles. If someone like me asks for it or if someone is asking to commute to school, I change the wheel and clean it up and sell it even if the profit is only 25 rupees more. I don’t give it away to anyone, I repair and sell it only for school students.”

Photographing Ganesan as he went about his day has been a learning and a privilege. Whether I was taking his picture or asking him questions, he never refused or showed any hesitation. He always had a smile, even when describing his hardships.

The first day, when he got on his cycle and started pedaling, I followed on my motorcycle. A sense of hesitation arose within me, and I felt that perhaps I should follow him on a bicycle. But I couldn’t do it. I did want to ride his bicycle at least once to experience the feeling. But I was hesitant, because all the saleable items he carries on that bicycle are essential for his daily livelihood. I didn’t want to cause him any discomfort or loss, so I never told him about it.

Ganesan doesn’t eat while at work. This was hard for me to understand. I wonder where he gets the strength to cycle such long distances without food. If I have to work all day without food, I would find it very hard.

He only drinks water from a bottle that he brings from home. Ganesan once invited me to join him for tea. But since I don’t drink tea, I politely declined. Later when I thought of taking him somewhere for tea, he wouldn’t come. He had guessed I was doing it for him, but he instead put my comfort before his.

Pedaling a loaded cycle for hours, every single day, is not as easy as Ganesan makes it out to be. I remember my childhood – I once carried a small load on a bicycle – it was very difficult. But here is a man in his sixties, showing me courage and mental strength as he pedalled away, slowly and steadily, hanging on to his motto: “I want to cycle until I die.”

This story was originally reported in Tamil.