Sitting on the road side in scorching heat, is Shiva and his family. They’ve set up a substitute for their kitchen, with a mini gas cylinder and make-do vessels. A curly haired child, say about 2 years old, stumbles towards us as the conversation with his went on. The kid giggles watching us talk, and his mother’s gaze shifts towards him holding all the affection one could witness in that split second.


“Shiva cannot hear anything, no matter how loud we speak. The doctors have said there is nothing wrong, we are still waiting on a diagnosis. We left everything behind and started living here. We have lived here for one month; we eat here, we sleep here, we survive here. Yes, it has been tough but Shiva is our only child in a marriage of five years. We can do this for our only son.”


A group of people sit under the bus stand, like a disorganised block of tetris, just trying to fit in wherever the space may be. Towards the left, a family is involved in a conversation that we hesitantly interrupt. “We’ve been visiting AIIMS for a year on and off, staying here constantly for a year. Heat, cold, rain we’ve seen everything. They don’t let us go inside the subways or metro stations if its raining,” says a woman. “His father is back in Bihar, earning money for us to be able to live,” she says. There are three children with them, one of whom isn’t able to function on his own and is evidently the patient. His left eye has his operational iris turned upside down. Flinching internally, we heard the rest of the story. “One of Vikas’ eyes is cancerous, the operation went wrong and the cancer spread to the other eye. We’re waiting on a due appointment, we can only hold on to the hope.”


Behind gate no.1 of the metro station, in an area bounded by green grills, a woman sits folding clothes she had just dried. Being in conversation with her attracts a crowd, soon after which her husband and child show up. “They say we need three bottles of his blood.I don’t know Randheer’s blood group. But the cancer is curable, it’s only stage one. We’ve lived here for the past 15 days. The treatment is going really well, it’s clean, they treat us really well.”

A passerby remarks on why Randheer’s blood group is still unknown. Putting his arm around his son, the father responds, “We’ll find out soon.”


A man is fast asleep near the staircase, he looks worn out and tired. A security guard reluctantly wakes him up, “Chacha uth jaiye”. The man groans and leaves. The guard lingers around the staircase, inhaling sharply.

“I come here every morning at 7 to wake them up. What can they do? They have nowhere to go. People come from all over the country.”


As he leans against his van-turned-ambulance, Bobby stands patiently outside of the hospital in the sweltering heat, unbuttons his checkered shirt open to keep him cool.

He begins to talk and his voice carries a briskness that expresses a sense of someone who has nearly become a veteran at his job.

“It is so crucial for us, so much responsibility resting on our shoulders as we drive with the emergency light on. What can my mental state be at that time with someone in the back, imagine? They are mostly poor folks and it is difficult to charge them. But I have a family as well in Bulandshahr and I have done this job for 3 years to feed them."


Peering from the edge of the parked bus, Rajender Mahato tries to catch a glimpse of a food truck that is now serving. "The food can be so expensive here. Back in Kolkata, a mere Rs. 30 can fetch you enough food. Eggs, fish and whatnot. But Delhi is something else.”

Unconcerned that a long queue is forming for the food, Rajender tells his story. “I came from Asansol as I was referred here for my gall bladder stone operation. I wish all of this could be done there itself but the doctors referred me here. Now I am in a new city trying to find a place to rest until my number comes for operation.”

He takes a pause to gaze steadily at his feet.

“My two sons.”

His eyes well up as he goes on, “They will be here and it troubles me that they'll come all the way from home for this. I wish I could educate them you know? Give them a chance to prosper. The livelihood of the boys and their education, everything gets affected because of all these expenses.”

Captured in the picture, Mahato stands firmly with his mind still on his children and the food truck with its ever increasing queue.

Within moments of their arrival, each food truck finds itself catering to a seemingly endless queue of solemnly organized people waiting to receive their meals. Utensils, disposable plates, mugs, glasses and even plastic packets are used to store food by the patients and their families.


Each van has its own selection of food. Rotis and dal in one while another serves rice with vegetables. It takes a good part of an hour for a van to be empty, serving in this time hundreds of people. Although the food b


Walking slowly yet determined, Narayan ji distributes small disposable plates to the people in the queue. He then goes on to take charge of serving food along with the ones already there. “We only pray for one thing from God - That these people don't have to spend for the food, with already so much pressure on them." He says, his eyes still wandering on the queue, ensuring if everyone has a plate.

“I started this work only 4 years ago and never looked back. Providing them food is not just a contribution to them, but to the world itself and many understand this. They come to me asking if they can donate money for more food to be given.” Swaran Singh hands Lallan Ji a stack of rotis wrapped in plastic, his white polo shirt and turban glistening under the sun, “Our work has been going on for awhile now. Everyday without fail, I come here and distribute food to these people. Now there are so many of us coming here every now and then. It is truly a blessing.”

Shesh Narayan, a driver stands in the corner watching this scene with his arms folded. “I always park here and see these people. I can tell by this work, of serving food like this, that there is still a God. There is still humanity. Almost a 1000 people consume food here every day. It is remarkable.”

Life outside of AIIMS continues to be one with many hardships where families wait out days in the sweltering heat to receive treatment. Yet within their stories are the vivid glimpses of the sentiment that propels life forward - Hope.

In their struggles are heartbreaking lessons of compassion and strength. From the ones who cook the food for the patients to the ones that distribute them, this is a picture of life painted with great care. A picture painted to show how we as community come together from all walks of life. From the private ambulance driver to the ones committed in distributing free food, to the security guard who wakes patients up, to the hospital itself that is committed to its patients - this is a picture worth a thousand emotions.

(Main Photo: A collage of the lifestyle outside AIIMS, Credits: S.M.Seraj Ali)

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