New Delhi - Shakeel Ahmad wanders the cramped alleyways of Old
Delhi offering water from a goat hide canteen slung over his
shoulder, a centuries-old service welcomed by thirsty vendors
toiling under the baking Indian sun.
Ahmad is one of last Bhishtis, a community of water carriers
fading into history after generations of quenching thirsts in
Delhi's old quarter.
Bhishtis have been supplying businesses, pilgrims and passersby
with swigs from their swollen canteens since the Mughals ruled
India, an era before piped water sounded the death knell for their
trade.
"I spent my childhood doing this. My ancestors too spent
theirs," Ahmad told AFP at the footsteps of Jama Masjid, a towering
mosque built at the height of the Mughal empire.
"Now I am the last. I'm not sure if my children, if the next
generation, will do this or not."
For centuries, Bhishtis have sourced water from an underground
basin deep beneath the warrens and Mughal-era monuments of Old
Delhi -- a bustling quarter hidden away from the modern Indian
capital that grew up around it.
Inside a small Sufi shrine, Ahmad -- like countless Bhishtis
before him -- draws water from a deep well, filling his large goat
skin canteen known as a mashaq to the very brim.
"The water in this well hasn't stopped since it was dug," said
Ahmad, gesturing to the murky depths of the pit below.
"It dried up just once when construction began on the Delhi
metro... But then it just came back on its own."
It is back-breaking work hauling a full mashaq around the
crowded, cobbled streets in the blistering Indian summer, where
daytime temperatures regularly exceed 40 degrees celsius.
A full canteen carries roughly 30 litres -- enough to earn a
Bhishti a mere 30 rupees ($0.50), a pittance for the hard labour
involved.
"My children will find it difficult to do this job. I am the
last (of my family)," Ahmad said.
The advent of piped water, and cheap bottled options, has
decimated their business, but there's still a handful calling out
for Ahmad as he treads the lanes with his dripping flagon.
Old shopkeepers, parched in the midday sun, cup their hands for
a mouthful of water, while street vendors have him fill cooling
units and drink buckets to ward off the worst of the heat.
Problems with the piped water supply -- not an unusual
occurrence in the creaky old neighbourhood -- is a godsend for
Ahmad, even if a nuisance for everyone else.
"When they have their regular supply, no one bothers to call,"
Ahmad said.
Business may not be booming but tourists and pilgrims still
double take when they see the elderly Bhishti in his white Muslim
tunic and prayer cap carting his water skin, a flashback to a
bygone era.
"Many people are amazed to see that this profession still
exists... that something from the time of the kings still exists.
They are surprised and happy to see us," he said.