Left: : A man at the Rema Tea Garden sits beside the dead body of his wife. The ceremony is simple, humble. On an open coffin made of bamboo strips, her body is wrapped with a white piece of cloth. Red joba flowers spread over the cloth. He is waiting for the burial

Middle: The females of this line (group of workers who leave in a community) of Rema Garden have gathered at one the homes in the locality. No work today. Another of their workers died the day before from bimar (local name for all ‘illness’), and they are frustrated at the estate-appointed local doctor’s blanket prescription of lal pani (red water) for all diseases. They are going to go to meet the manager of the estate, now, for a remedy. They are waiting for the rest to come.

Right: Its lunchtime at Kapai Tea Garden under Lashkarpur Estate. The lunch: a paste made from dry tea leaves, chili, and a pinch of salt! Crouched inside the thukris used for picking leaves, the women are having lunch. This particular paste is the best way to fulfill hunger, and yet not feel drowsy. Because there is more work to do.

 

Within the boundaries of each tea estate exists another world. Here, the tea garden workers, who have been working for generations in the same place, are a segregated lot. Their lives are governed by a different set of rules. Be it the minimum wage, or the number of schools, are all redefined within the periphery of the 'estate'.
Be it the 'mental myopia' inbred within generations of hopelessness, or the lack of change, tea garden workers have remained the 'other' citizens.