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“I love my ma. She does everything for me that I can’t do myself”

During the 2020 global pandemic, Ajit Dusad (26) was one among the millions of migrants in big cities who made the harrowing return journey to their native towns and villages. In 2018 Ajit had migrated all the way from Choto Dudhpati, a village in Assam's Cachar district, to take up gig work in Bengaluru as a delivery boy for a biryani outlet. He had an added reason to hurry back home: to relieve his mother Basanti’s burden of caring for his brother Babul (30) who has multiple disabilities. During Ajit’s stay in Bengaluru Babul once fell grievously ill with jaundice and had to be hospitalised. Basanti had singlehandedly managed everything but it had left her totally drained, and now, with the pandemic restrictions to boot, she really needed a helping hand.  
 
It was Ajit, the younger son, who donned the role of primary breadwinner after passing ninth standard in school. His father Harihar Dusad (70) used to ride a cycle-rickshaw but became too feeble to carry on his occupation. Basanti used to supplement the family’s paltry earnings with daily-wage work like road-building but Babul’s disabilities soon converted her into a full-time caregiver.
 
Babul was a sickly child and it took a while for the couple to realise that “something was wrong” with him. They took him to multiple doctors and, as it commonly happens when the patient’s parents have no formal education, none of them bothered to explain their diagnosis. All of them merely said “nothing can be done, this is how it will be”. What the “it” is, was not made clear.
 
Babul appears to have an intellectual disability, a difficulty with speech and comprehension, and a locomotive disability as well. “His right hand doesn’t open fully and his right foot is slightly bent,” Ajit told us. “He doesn’t understand much, and he can’t speak clearly; only recently he learnt to say his own name. But the one word he has always spoken is ‘ma’ – it’s ‘ma, ma’ all the time. My mother is his lifeline.” Ajit added that someone has to always sleep next to Babul at night because his “body sometimes becomes stiff” (probably a seizure), for which a “medicine” has to be immediately given.
 
Basanti told us that Babul has a disability certificate and gets a disability pension of ₹2,000 per month. “He does nothing much, just sits around all day,” she said. “I wake up in the morning, cook for the day, and take care of Babul’s needs all day. When I go out to cut grass for our cow my husband sees to Babul.”
 
Ajit told us his brother can take care of his basic needs with his one good hand. “I am not only his brother but also his only friend,” he said. “I have set up a small roadside stall here in Cachar where I sell mobile covers, headphones and other accessories. With whatever I earn, we run the house.”
 
In any family struggling to just get by, their hopes for the future would tend to be restricted, and so it is with the Dusad family. Ajit says he just wants to continue to be able to run the household. As for Basanti, she tells us with a sigh: “I had many dreams, I still have them, but what is the point? I know nothing will come of it. Now I am just worried about how the future will be for my children.”