A day in the life of Sardar Patel statue in Parliament Street

“We don’t clean it that often as it involves huge logistics. It also requires to be cleaned by an expensive chemical as it is a limestone structure. Mostly it is refurbished before important events like Sardar Patel’s birth anniversary (October 31),” says an official, who doesn’t want to be named.

In his Mann ki Baat address as well as tweets, Prime Minister Narendra Modi has been encouraging the public to help keep statues such as this one clean.

“#StatueCleaning is a noble contribution to nation building & towards #MyCleanIndia,” the PM tweeted on January 28, before following it up with, “Clean a statue in your vicinity & share pictures with #StatueCleaning. I will RT some of them in the days to come. #MyCleanIndia”.

Since then, he has retweeted at least five instances of people cleaning statues.

No one knows when this imposing Patel statue was last cleaned. Modi himself was here on October 31, which is celebrated as Rashtriya Ekta Diwas by his government.

A plaque in the front identifies Patel as ‘Architect of the Nation’. Another at the back states when it was unveiled: 18th September, 1963, by then President Dr S Radhakrishnan.

At the statue’s base, which appears to have initially been built to accommodate water, two women safai karamcharis sweeping the floor admit “we don’t really know anything about the person in the statue”.

Their woes are more grounded. “It’s the pigeons that are the biggest trouble here,” says the elder of the two, 55-year-old Rama, refusing to tell her last name or be photographed. “We keep cleaning it but they keep coming back. People feed birds here and this is like a kabootar ka dhaba,” adds the petite woman, dressed in a colourful batik sari, as she swats at a down feather that floats away.

Amid the layer of dust that covers the statue, the pigeons have left their indelible mark. A huge flock keeps flying about, drawn towards grains and a clay pot with water on a divider nearby.

At the top of the statue, the bird droppings have formed a pattern: it could be an inverted white crown but is more akin to a watermelon helmet.

The official says the PM’s request to the public to pitch in to keep statues clean “isn’t really feasible here”. “This statue is at least 35 metres in height and requires workers to climb shaky ladders to even get to it,” he says. It doesn’t help that this is a high-security zone.

Then there is the issue of jurisdiction: the governance conundrum that plagues the national capital with its multiple civic agencies applies to its statues as well. While the Sardar Patel statue is the domain of the NDMC, the Central Public Works Department, which reports to the Central government, is in charge of nearly all the other statues in Lutyens Delhi.

“We are not engaged to clean this statue either. They get other workers to do it. Our job is to keep the surroundings clean. After we are done cleaning around the base, we move to the railings and then cut the grass. We can, however, paint the fences,” says 35-year-old Draupadi, the warier and quieter of the safai karamcharis.

Living in the same neighbourhood, located close to the Haryana border, they work 9 am to 5 pm. “Every morning, we are assigned a roster. We can be sent anywhere,” says Rama. She has been posted at this roundabout for the past five months, she adds.

“Just the cleaning and cutting take up most of our time,” Rama adds. “We have lunch and then do the same thing all over again as a lot of people come here.”

Originally from Mathura, Rama says she moved to Delhi after her marriage in 1989. She joined the NDMC in 1999 but only became permanent last August, she adds.

Draupadi, who has been at the roundabout for three months, joined the NDMC about five years ago. “I lost my husband and was left with two children. My brother helped me get a job here. I had been posted in the office but was moved out after some issues,” she adds.

As the afternoon sun bakes the statue, the area beneath it comes to life. Like at other roundabouts across Lutyens Delhi, people, mostly employees from government offices nearby, gather on the grounds for their lunch break.

Some share meals right underneath the statue, others bicker over a game of cards. Yet others spread out newspapers for a nap in the warm winter sun. A youth rests his mobile phone on his chest, puts on songs loudly, and lies down, hands covering his eyes.

The only deserted part is where the pigeons have left their droppings.

A lone woman, hunched close to the statue’s perimeter, invites a dozen stares. But she stands oblivious — to them and, like the others, to Sardar Patel above.

The two safai karamcharis take their place among the revellers and resters for lunch. They spread a mat close to the statue and keep an eye on it, preventing anyone from entering its perimeter. After a meal of roti and dal, brought from home, Rama rests for a while while Draupadi knits.

“I like to knit,” she says. “I make things for my children.”

An hour later, the roundabout starts emptying and the two are joined by a gardener. “Don’t write while you are speaking to them,” he advises, pointing to the women. “It’s making them nervous.”

Watching the pigeons flock back, Rama lets out a sigh. “The water that we get here makes me sick,” she says.

Around tea time, she lights a beedi and, relaxing, opens up. Without a sense of irony, she says, “My youngest son is 21 and suffers from chronic bronchitis. We tried to get him treated at a number of places but he is now bedridden.”

So the onus to support the family is on her and her younger daughter, who works in a beauty parlour. “My elder daughter is married but is now back home and my husband has retired. I get about Rs 6,000, of which I spend Rs 1,500 on a bus pass. It is still better than the Rs 2,500 I got before I became permanent last August,” Rama says.

The sun by now has beginning to fade behind the statue, and Rama and Draupadi start packing up.

Within minutes, the only figure at the roundabout is Sardar Patel, with his crown of droppings.