The Better India
It is 4 am in Jungle Mahal village, and the lane outside Ghanshyam Maurya’s house is still dark. The 52-year-old has already left, pushing a wooden handcart with a huge water tank on it. Inside, his wife, Shashi Lata, is lighting the stove. By the time the roti goes on the griddle, her husband will have crossed several kilometres, stopping at every junction where he has placed earthen pots for labourers, travellers, patients, and passers-by. Ghanshyam Maurya begins his daily water route from Jungle Mahal village in Mirzapur. At each stop, he lifts the lid, empties the previous day’s water, and pours fresh drinking water in. At some places, he leaves two or three pots. At others, he places a thin cotton towel, a pair of slippers, and sometimes biscuits or sweets beside them. The towel is for the heat. The slippers are for those he has seen walking barefoot. The biscuits and sweets are a small kindness for people who begin their day with hard labour and little else. Across the tribal belt around Ahraura in Uttar Pradesh’s Mirzapur, Ghanshyam and Shashi Lata are loved as the couple who carry clean water. Every summer, for four months, they place earthen pots at busy junctions, outside the market, near the bus stop, at the government hospital, and in areas where labourers gather before work. Ghanshyam and Shashi Lata place earthen pots at junctions and public areas in Ahraura. “This is a hilly region, and contaminated water comes here. The water that comes through the pipes is yellow in colour,” Ghanshyam says. This summer, he has 150 pots out on his route. He has the handcart. He has the towels. He has the will to keep going. What he needs now is a small battery-run rickshaw (a toto) that once helped him carry this water much further. For most of the past six years, he rented a toto. This year, he cannot afford it. The route that once stretched towards tribal hamlets, labour camps, and faraway junctions now ends where his handcart can no longer go. Beyond that point, people still wait. The water does not reach them. Donate today to help Ghanshyam buy a battery-run rickshaw and take clean drinking water beyond the last stop his handcart can reach. Tap to help 'Matka Man' ‘I lost my mother because of dirty water’ In 2015, Ghanshyam’s mother fell ill with anaemia, which was caused by the contaminated yellow water that came through the pipes in Jungle Mahal — the same water many families in his village had been drinking for years. “We tried a lot and spent money on my mother’s treatment, but she could not survive,” he says. “Many people in our home and village were falling ill because of this contaminated water.” Ghanshyam says contaminated yellow water affected several families in Jungle Mahal. Ghanshyam spent Rs 1.5 lakh on her treatment. For one and a half to two months, she seemed to recover. Then, in 2017, she passed away. That was when he decided that whatever work he did from then on would be for the good of others. But, he could not afford a borewell for the village. He could not afford a filtration plant either. What he could manage, with money borrowed from contractors he worked for as a daily-wage labourer, was one earthen pot. Then came another. And then, hundreds. “We decided, as husband and wife, that we would go from place to place and give people clean water to drink,” he says. “We keep pots in different areas. We refill the water in the morning and evening, and give everyone clean water.” The earthen pots are placed on stands so people can access drinking water during the day. Ghanshyam says he began this work with no savings. He would tell contractors that he wanted to do this service, take up labour work, earn what he could, and put the money into pots and water. “Even today, I do not have money. That day too, I did not have money,” he says. In one season, he says, he would place as many as 400 earthen pots across the area. Some cracked during the monsoon, and some broke along the way. So whenever his pocket allowed, he bought more and placed them again, returning to the same promise that had begun after his mother’s death. The yellow water took his mother. Clean water, he believes, can protect someone else if he can help it reach them in time. Across Ahraura, people now cheer when they see him arrive. They call out “Matka Man, Matka Man”, celebrate his work, and thank him for bringing water they can trust. “They give me a lot of blessings, support, and encouragement,” he says. Children and families use the water Ghanshyam supplies through his summer route. For Ghanshyam, those voices have become fuel. And you can help him carry forward the promise he made after losing his mother: clean water for people who have none. Tap to help 'Matka Man' 15 kilometres by handcart, 100 kilometres by rickshaw Ghanshyam’s route begins at the Ahraura market, where a few shops with RO machines let him fill his 500-litre tank for free. The shopkeepers know where the water is going, so they allow him to fill the tank and encourage him to continue. From there, he moves towards the junctions, the market area, the bus stop, the government hospital, and the places where labourers wait before leaving for the kiln, the lumberyard, or construction sites. He places two or three pots at each stop and returns through the day to refill them. Ghanshyam fills his tank at shops in Ahraura before starting his daily route. When he had access to a rented battery-run rickshaw, he could cover 70 to 80 kilometres in a day. Some days, he says, he could stretch the route to 100 kilometres. “Now, with the handcart, I can barely manage 15 to 20 kilometres. I am not able to go that far because money is slipping from my hands,” he says. “At present, I have kept only 150 pots in nearby areas. My courage is on the verge of breaking.” Even within this smaller route, the work takes up the whole day. By noon, the first round is usually done. By evening, when many pots are empty again, he returns for another round. On some days, depending on how quickly the water is used, he goes back morning, afternoon, and evening. By the time he returns home, around 1,000 litres of clean water have passed through his hands. Ghanshyam refills pots through the day as water is used by labourers and passers-by. At the junctions, people wait for him. “When I go to the junctions, people are ready. They think, ‘Matka Man will come, and we will fill our bottles with clean water’,” he says. Most of the people who drink this water, Ghanshyam says, are labourers. Some cut wood. Some work at daily-wage sites. Some come barefoot, which is why he began keeping slippers on his route, too. Ghanshyam and Shashi Lata have three children — two sons and a daughter. Both husband and wife have government job cards, but neither has fixed work. Through the year, he does labour work whenever he gets it. During the four hottest months, when wells run low, and labourers need water the most, he gives his days to the route. “We could not do any business, and we did not get jobs. So we do labour work,” he says. “During the four months of summer, we do this work of service.” Labourers and children along the route depend on the pots for drinking water in summer. He had no money the day he began. He has no savings now. Yet the pots are still out. A man with almost nothing in his pocket is moving 1,000 litres of clean water through his region every day. With a handcart, the water reaches 15 kilometres. With a battery-run rickshaw, it can reach up to 100. Donate today so that Ghanshyam’s water route can grow from 15 kilometres to 100 kilometres this summer. Tap to help 'Matka Man' How can you help bring long-term change? For most of his six years on the road, Ghanshyam rented a battery-run rickshaw at Rs 500 a day. It allowed him to move faster, refill quicker, and reach people living much further away. This year, the math broke. School fees and household expenses rose, while the daily rent remained too high for him to manage. So he shifted to a handcart that costs Rs 100 a day. The handcart is cheaper, but it has cut his route down to a small circle around Ahraura. A battery-run rickshaw can help Ghanshyam carry water across a wider route. “Now we cannot take the rickshaw on rent every day. Where will we bring the money from?” he asks. “We have been doing this work for five to six years, but now, it feels like I am falling. If I get the vehicle, I will rise again.” The battery-run rickshaw he needs costs around Rs 1,60,000 in the Mirzapur market. Ghanshyam has already calculated what it can change. The vehicle, Ghanshyam says, can open up the route again. He can travel 40 to 50 kilometres on either side of his home, return to the market faster for refills, and carry around 1,000 litres of clean water across a much larger area. “If we have our own rickshaw, we will be able to do this work easily,” he says. “When summer comes again, I will go back into service.” He adds, “If I get the vehicle, the money I now spend on rent will go into doing more service, into food for my children, and into taking this work further,” he says. Ghanshyam says the rickshaw would help him refill pots faster and reach farther stops. A battery-run rickshaw costs around Rs 1,60,000 in the Mirzapur market. It is also the cost of ending his daily dependence on rent. It is the cost of reaching the labourers who now fall outside his route. Right now, he knows their faces. He also knows he cannot reach them. “It breaks my heart.” For Rs 1,60,000, his route can grow from 15 kilometres to nearly 100. His 150 pots can become several hundred more. His daily rent can become money for water, food, school fees, and service. Donate to help Ghanshyam buy the vehicle that can put clean water back on the road. ‘ If I get this support, I will spread its benefit across society’ Some people in Ghanshyam’s village call him mad. They ask why a man with three children, no fixed job, and no land would leave his own household needs and spend his days giving water to others. He has heard the question many times. His answer has stayed the same. What greater success can there be in life than this?” he says. At the junctions, the answer arrives before he does. People gather when they see his cart or vehicle approaching. They cheer for him as “Matka Man! Matka Man!”, celebrate him, and thank him because they know he is bringing clean water. People in Ahraura know Ghanshyam as Matka Man for his summer water service. “People gather and wait for me, rejoicing that they will get clean water,” he says. That gratitude keeps him going through 45-degree heat, long rounds, broken pots, rent he cannot afford, and days when his own home has little to spare. “I get this courage from the poor and from their blessings. I become completely absorbed in this work,” he says. “When I see someone drinking clean water, I feel very happy.” He has no volunteers and no extra support right now. Shashi Lata is his only constant partner in the work. Together, they have carried this service through summers, losses, and shrinking means. “My dream is that there should be clean water everywhere in Uttar Pradesh,” he says. “If I get support, I will spread its benefits across society. I just want to become a medium of support for society.” Every morning, before the village has fully woken up, Ghanshyam steps out with water that has to travel. The handcart can take it 15 kilometres. The need waits much further away. A battery-run rickshaw can put him back on the road he knows by heart, with nearly 100 kilometres ahead of him and labourers at the far end holding bottles that can finally be filled. Ghanshyam does not need applause. He already receives it at the junctions, where people cheer “Matka Man” and wait for his water. What he needs is a vehicle that can help him reach them. Donate now. Help Ghanshyam buy a battery-run rickshaw, carry clean water across Mirzapur’s heat, and make sure the labourers waiting beyond his handcart’s reach are no longer left thirsty. Tap to help 'Matka Man' All pictures courtesy Donatekart
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