No rosy deal

Independent women flower-sellers in Delhi's Mehrauli market just manage to break even. Still, it is the only profession they know...

Stringing together a livelihood:Phoolwati.

The waft of the early morning scent lingers heavy in the air but even with a name like hers, Phoolwati, 45, has no time to take in the fragrance of the winter roses, silky tulips and slender gladioli that lie in bundles all around her.

Perched cross-legged, Phoolwati eyes potential customers while her hands are in a hectic race to quickly string marigolds and folded leaves of the Ashok tree into at least a 100 garlands in a day. Phoolwati — one of the two independent women flower-sellers in this flower market that lies in the shadow of Delhi's Qutub Minar — starts at 4 a.m. the preparations to sell her saffron-hued wares that will adorn an idol, decorate a welcoming front door, grace a chief guest or garland the memory of a departed loved one.

Not gender-friendly

A mother of three, Phoolwati has been the sole breadwinner of her family ever since her husband fell critically ill soon after the marriage. While selling flowers may appear to be a rosy profession, the flower market is not gender-friendly in terms of sanitation or working facilities, states Phoolwati.

The other woman flower-seller is Soni, 32, a widow and mother of three. Soni took up the flower trade after her husband passed away. As independent flower-sellers, Phoolwati employs two other women and Soni has around five to six working for her. While both women have common problems of commerce, such as having to grease the palm of a greedy policeman, Soni does not have to worry about the home as her daughter looks after the kitchen. Yet, she is concerned about the prospects of her business, wishing she could sell cut flowers, which she feels requires the skills of talking to “ bade-bade aadmi”. She is also concerned about countering the lean days — usually Delhi's harsh summer months — which is when Soni is compelled to lay off some women working for her.

Garland makers are generally women and children. To her employees, Soni pays the market price of 50 paisa per marigold garland and a rupee for garlands made of roses or any other flower. However, for the more auspicious but occasional garlands, such as the jaimala, or the wedding garland, she gives them around Rs. 20. The women make an average investment of Rs .2,000 to Rs. 3,000 per day, with sales of around Rs. 4,000. On festive occasions, such as Deepavali and New Year, they can sell flowers for up to Rs. 40,000. Of course, these figures can vary and they usually make a good profit only during the festive seasons. The rest of the time they manage a little above break-even.

Of course, the market does have other women such as Dayawati, who are second-in-command as they assist husbands in their business. Dayawati makes garlands in her husband's shop. The board above her reads, ‘Laxmi flower decoration and special home delivery'. “I have always done this and I won't trade it for any other work. Nobody bosses me around, I do as I please,” says Dayawati, who admits that while garland-making is not as profitable as making bouquets, the reliability of the demand for garlands throughout the year makes up for the absence of large margins. Dayawati works from 9 a.m. to 3 p.m.

Indispensable

These stories of daily struggle for existence are quickly drowned in the rush that descends on the market when the big wholesale vendors arrive with their fantastic array of flowers and the rich male bidders and retailers make their purchases for the day. One realises how indispensable flowers can be for a regular buyer. Says Kalpana of Defence Colony, as she buys two bouquets of a fantastic mix of pink carnations, yellow gerberas and baby's breath from a shop run by Mushtaq, for her daughter's birthday, “Flowers signify freshness. Flowers bring nature into our drawing rooms.”

Her enthusiasm is matched by Daman Anand, owner of 'www.indiafloristdirect.com', who was a flower cultivator, importer and retailer before setting up the international on-line flower delivery service. Anand loves his business because in addition to the profits, flowers never fail to bring a smile to one's face.

But it is ironic that the same flowers that add cheer and warmth in an upper class drawing room, only remind women like Phoolwati, Soni and Beena that their lives haven't blossomed despite their daily grind. It is the fancy flower boutique owners with their high-end clients who are making the fast buck, not those turning out simple but auspicious garlands with their toil-worn hands.

Source: http://www.hinduonnet.com